


Say Goodbye To Soho

by Blue_Robin



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Finally found the plot, Investigations afoot, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Post-Lethal White, Smut, it took a turn, lots of smut, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 50,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Robin/pseuds/Blue_Robin
Summary: Big changes are ahead for Cormoran and Robin, a new office, a new home, a new relationship, and a new threat?





	1. Chapter 1

_Oh, I’ve got this friend_  
_Holding on to her heart_  
_Like it’s a little secret_  
_Like it’s all she’s got to give_

**I’ve Got This Friend - The Civil Wars**

The interior of The Tottenham was warm and cozy, with various groupings of patrons, tourists and faces that were familiar to Robin, creating a buzz of conversation that was as comforting as white noise. This pub was a sanctuary to her. Even without the enormous presence of her partner, Cormoran Strike. She knew that The Tottenham would be there, serving white wine, and offering small tables, comfortable seating, and delicious food, no matter the time. When things went to shit, The Tottenham is where they started to feel less so.

Things had gone to shit for Robin lately. There was the divorce, the lack of appreciable evidence in the case she was currently working, the Land Rover needing new tires and brakes, and most recently, Cormoran’s news that they were likely going to have to find a new office space because their landlord had decided to sell, along with what seemed like every other owner on Denmark, to a developer. This and the divorce were the two things that caused her the most concern.

The divorce because Matthew was being predictably intransigent about the division of their assets. Dickering about money, naturally, and seeming to take a sort of petty joy in dragging it out so that her lawyer’s fees would be astronomical. It was so Matthew. Tosser.

The office situation because their current office felt more like home than any other place in London ever had. It’s comfortable shabbiness, creaky floors, and the constant noise from musicians in the club on the first floor were almost sacred to Robin. The thought of leaving that space was devastating. She’d had the happiest moments of her adult life inside those walls.

She no longer viewed her brush with death on the steps that first day as anything other than a blessing. Those few terrifying moments led to a multitude of dreams coming true in a way that she could have never foreseen when Cormoran had first burst through the door of the office and accidentally knocked her toward the steep flight of stairs. Assisting Cormoran with the Landry case, seeing that through from beginning to end, with the culmination bringing about her permanent employment at the agency. Something she’d hardly dared dream would happen.

But then to have Cormoran come to value her enough to want her to become his partner, not just his assistant. In the diner on the way back from Devon, during the Quine case, he had made it clear that he absolutely would want her for his partner, even with her lack of experience, and yet another dream, one she thought had been destroyed years ago, came true. Cormoran gifted her with a surveillance course, and oddly, a kiss on the hand, and both registered in her mind that day as momentous. Though the kiss had been replayed more in her mind lately than the brief handshake and conversation preceding it.

The sweet unexpectedness of that kiss. The panic in his eyes when he came to find her in A&E after The Shacklewell Ripper had ripped her arm open. The soul searing memory of their hug at her ill-fated wedding. The accidental kiss in the parking lot at the hospital when Jack had been ill, when the impression of his lips against hers had tingled for a week afterward anytime she thought about it, and her lips had done quite a lot of tingling that week. The conversation that started on the roadside verge and finished at the Newbury Racecourse with champagne and venison burgers and the closest thing to a date they had ever had.

All of those moments, combined with the many long looks she’d received from him over the course of the last year, the seemingly innocent brushes of his hand against hers when passing a mug of tea, the many tiny gestures he’d made that indicated to her, after nearly a full bottle of wine and a conversation with Ilsa had fully opened her eyes, that maybe it was time to take this step. All of that had brought her to this moment. Waiting here in The Tottenham for her partner to arrive for their now almost daily catch up. Now was the time for her to broach something she’d been wanting to broach for a while now.

And the potential office move, unwanted and sad though it was, gave her the opening. If only he’d arrive.


	2. Chapter 2

_Told myself right from the start_  
_Don't go too far, don't lose your heart_  
_But here I am, just look at me_  
_I can't believe I'm in this deep_

**Over My Head – John Paul White**

Cormoran entered The Tottenham and was greeted with the familiar smells and sounds that, as it did with Robin, set him at ease. A pint of Doom Bar and Robin’s company were in this pub and all was right in his world. Or would be shortly.

Catching sight of Robin’s bright halo of hair, the glow from the pub lights glinting on those gilded strands reminding him of the first time he met her. Well, when he first dragged her into the office after nearly sending her plummeting to her death on the stairs. The sun had shone through the grimy window of the front room of his office, picking out the bronze and red highlights in her hair as he watched her surreptitiously massage her left breast, which had been caught in his hand as he had dragged her back from the edge of the fall.

Over the last two years that bright hair had elicited so many different feelings from him. At times it was like living flame, glowing at him as the only bright spot in a bad day. Seeing it seemed like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. The dark was ending, at least for a little while. With the light of her hair came the light she exuded. A candle glowing in a window within the darkness of his mind, guiding him toward a respite. 

Other times it would drift in the breeze, catching against his sleeve or the shoulder of his coat, almost like it was teasing him, begging him to gather it into his hands, to wind it around his fingers. Use it to draw her closer. It seemed he always wanted her closer these days.

He knew that his attachment to Robin had grown deep, despite his resolution to not allow himself to go there. He knew he shouldn’t think the thoughts he sometimes found himself thinking when they were alone, as they often were, in their little office. But she was the only person in his life, aside from Shanker, who accepted him as he was and didn’t seem to want anything to change. Interestingly, this had the perverse effect of making him want to change things. Odd that.

She was able to complete his thoughts on cases almost before he knew he’d had the thought and he seemed to often do the same for her. It felt like they were often one mind in two bodies. At least where the agency was concerned. And especially after their day at the races when they had discussed the future of their business.

It was no stretch to say that their agency wouldn’t be where it was today without her intuitiveness and different thought processes. She saw things from that female point of view and, unlike other women in his experience, didn’t make a big deal about it. It was natural for her.

They were a natural fit for each other.

But he wasn’t supposed to think that. He wasn’t supposed to think about how the storm clouds gathered in her eyes when she was fired up about getting justice for one of their clients. He wasn’t supposed to think about the way her lips pursed as she took a sip from a mug of tea he’d made her. He certainly wasn’t supposed to think about how those lips would feel against his again.

He’d felt her against him once at her wedding and he’d been tempted to ask her to leave with him. He occasionally, especially after too many pints, wished he’d been brave enough to have done so. Maybe then she wouldn’t still be dealing with Matthew’s pettishness. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to wonder if her lips really were as soft and sweet as they had seemed in the hospital car park.

Maybe by now…

Cormoran shook his head, clearing his mind as he saw Robin’s gaze lift and felt it merge with his. A punch to his rapidly receding stomach. They’d made a deal at the racecourse. He’d stick to his diet. She’d stick to her CBT exercises. They’d each do what they needed to do to get as healthy as possible.

He was usually good at sticking to his promises.

Unless they were made to himself and revolved around thoughts of his partner’s hair and body and restful presence.

But here she was, glowing, it seemed, just for him. He was going to enjoy it while he had it, before heading back to the flat above their office. And the dark.

He slid into the chair she’d left open for him, in front of a pint of Doom Bar she’d had waiting for him and registered that her wine was already more than half gone. “Next round’s on me,” he stated. “What’s up?”

After a slight nod of acknowledgement, Robin started to describe the issues she was having with her current case. “I’m about as frustrated as I could possibly be with Peter Piper’s wife. It’s almost like she knows I’m tailing her.”

Cormoran quirked his brow in what she knew to be the equivalent of, “How so?” as he took a characteristically large drink of his pint.

“Well, she’s got this air of ‘sneak’ about her.” She used her fingers to form the air quotes. “I swear she’s having an affair, but she’s covering herself so well it’s impossible to get any kind of proof. She goes into buildings alone, leaves them alone, never sits near the windows in any establishment. I’ve been trailing her four days now and I’ve never seen her speak to anyone but sales people.” Robin ended with her left palm pressed to her forehead and cut him a look from under her strawberry lashes that perfectly conveyed her deep aggravation at being foiled.

He thought for a moment. Took another mouthful of his bitter. “Do you think maybe we should put Sam or Andy on her? Is it possible she’s made you?” Robin’s hair was distinctive and if Peter Piper’s wife was cheating, she may know that her husband was trying to uncover her infidelity. There was quite a bit of money at stake and a prenup to consider.

“I think we may have to. I’m wondering if it might not be a good idea to try to bait her. Maybe Sam could run into her at a pub some afternoon? She’s crafty. We need to be craftier.” Robin’s eyes gleamed with blue flame. She did not like being thwarted.

He loved that about her.

“I’ll check with him. If that’s OK with you? I need to chat with him tomorrow about his case anyway. That work?” he asked.

She nodded. Smiled. Lifted her glass and took a deep gulp of wine as if to fortify herself for the next topic.

He waited patiently, knowing that Robin sometimes needed to formulate her thoughts, especially if it was a sensitive subject as the flush that was rapidly rising above the pristine collar of her royal blue blouse seemed to imply.

Making a quick decision to give her a bit of time to marshal her thoughts, he boosted himself out of his seat with a gesture toward the bar, “Another?”

She grasped his suggestion with the air of a woman grabbing onto the rope that was going to drag her out of a bog. “Yes! Please.”

He’d give her until he got back with her wine.

Hell, at the rate he was going, he’d give her the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was so fun to write. I like being in his head. It's interesting. He seems to think poetically at times. No wonder he was at Oxford.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm gonna pick up the pieces_  
_And build a Lego house_  
  
**Lego House - Ed Sheeran**

As she watched Cormoran head to the bar Robin took a deep breath and let it out slowly through tight lips. The coming conversation was going to be difficult, but she knew it was worth it.

She nodded to herself. It’s definitely worth it.

And surely once he heard all of her reasons he’d agree. He’d be foolish not to.

Cormoran arrived back at the table with a grin, “Quick service this evening.” He plonked a fresh glass of wine down in front of her. “You ready to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I have an idea about our office situation. I think I’ve found a solution to both of the problems we’re dealing with.” She blurted out.

“I never doubted it. I could see the wheels turning in that head of yours as soon as I finished telling you about it. What’s the plan.” He grinned. She flushed.

Taking a deep breath she just decided to throw it out there. As she pulled a file folder of pictures and documents out of her bag and laid them on the table she started her explanation, “I’ve found office space in Euston, near Kings Cross. Which will be convenient for when we need to travel. The rent is low for the area and the office is nice. It has a reception area, kitchen big enough for a table, and two offices. It’s perfect for an expansion, which we need now with Sam and Andy, and the rent, considering that, is very reasonable.” As she rushes through the explanation she points out each feature, gauging his glances and nods for signs of how he may or may not take the next bit. “What do you think?”

He flipped through the pictures, “Looks nice. Bright.” The last was said with a wince as he started to look over the leasing agreement. She knows he’s used to the slight dinginess of their current accommodations and has to agree with him. It’s comforting in an odd way, whereas this bright white décor is slightly off-putting.

“That was one of my first thoughts as well, but they assured me we can decorate as we’d like, and I’ve already started looking at paint chips.” This earned her another grin that plainly said, “Of course you have.” It was clear he knew her well.

“Oh, and the rent includes a cleaning service twice weekly. Which is lovely.” She was very excited about this. Cormoran was good about keeping his space neat and tidy, but clients weren’t always so thoughtful, and she was really relishing the idea of never having to bag up trash again only to have to carry it down all those stairs while old coffee or tea dripped onto her shoes.

“It looks good. I like the location. I like the extra space. The cleaning is a definite plus.” He paused and glanced at her, waiting for her to raise her eyes to his. “If you like it, I’m in.” He held out his hand to shake on it. “Got a pen?”

She passed him a pen and he scrawled his signature on the line provided for him then passed her the pen and slid the paper around so that she could sign as well, saying as he did so, “That was painless. Cheers!” and he raised his glass in a toast to her.

“Now I just have to find a new flat. Luckily I have until the end of next month to do that.”

Robin finished packing away the rental office paperwork and quickly pulled out another folder to take advantage of the opening he’d just provided.

She tucked her hair behind both ears, took a deep breath and slid the folder toward him. “I’ve got some thoughts on that as well. Take a look.”

He flipped open the folder and she watched as he flipped through pictures of a lovely attached one story flat. It was white with a TARDIS blue door and a driveway large enough for two vehicles. A wide front window and what appeared to be a privacy fenced garden around the back.

And then he reached the rental agreement.

“Maida Vale? That’s a wee bit out of my price range there Robin.” He chuckled and shook his head as he lifted his neglected pint to his lips.

“Not if we take it on together.” She didn’t know where the courage came from, but she somehow was able to look him straight in the eyes as she said these words she’d feared and longed to say.

She winced as he choked on the gulp of Doom Bar he’d just taken and rushed to finish before he could say or do anything more than just look incredulous.

“I know it sounds odd and possibly even slightly uncomfortable but hear me out. The flat is Vanessa’s uncle’s. He’s agreed to let us have it at a good price, but for some reason he wants two people in it.”

“Paul,” Cormoran choked out the name of her current roommate, who was a mate of _his_ best mates Nick and Ilsa.

“Paul is happy in Earl’s Court and isn’t interested in moving. I’ve tried to talk him into it, but he won’t budge. Vanessa is happy with her flat since it’s so close to her office at the Met and I don’t know anyone else who would be interested in moving. You need a flat and can’t afford this on your own, but you could with me. We could together.”

He started shaking his head. But she rushed on, “I mentioned to Vanessa last week that I wanted to help you find a place that was all one level, so that on days when your leg is causing you pain you won’t have to worry about stairs. I figured after four years of climbing the stairs in your current building you’d welcome a respite. Vanessa immediately reached out to her Uncle David and he was more than happy to let me take a peek, but as I said, he won’t rent it to a single occupant for some reason.” Her tone was pleading now, though she tried to modulate that into something less desperate sounding.

“But you don’t need a new flat Robin.” Cormoran objected.

“No. Paul would certainly let me stay with him. We get on nicely. But you need me more I think.” She dared.

He looked positively thunderous. She hadn’t seen him like this since he’d fired her after the Brockbank mishap. But once again, courage welled from somewhere, (the wine?) and she held up a finger to forestall any further protests, “Look, I know you’re a private person. I am too. But you need a place, you need a roommate, you won’t be able to find an affordable flat in London without one, _and_ you need someone who won’t mind your odd work hours. Who better than me, your partner?” She spread her hands in front of her to underscore this bit of obviousness.

“There are three bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and a lounge/living area, a nice garden, a two car driveway and a laundry room. Plus we work such odd hours now that we’re both taking individual cases, we’d not really run into each other much.” She was counting reasons off on her fingers now.

“ Cormoran, I trust you more than anyone else in my life at the moment and I know you trust me. It makes so much sense.”

Hoping to entice him, she flipped to the pictures of the bedrooms in her packet of documents, “I think you could take this room here, closest to the living area, it has an attached bath so it’s like your own little suite. You’d never have to see me.” Though she hoped that wouldn't be the case.

She chanced a glance up at him, hoping she’d see a spark of something positive. He was following her, but she couldn’t get a grasp on what he was thinking now, though he did look a little less like he was ready to do murder.

“I’ll take this room,” she pointed to the slightly smaller room at the other end of the hall, “It doesn’t have an attached loo, but it is right next door so it’s fine. The third room, between yours and mine is so small, I think it would work well as an in-home office for the two of us.”

There was still no indication of his thoughts. His brows were still tightly drawn together. But he was looking at the pictures.

“The rent is perfect since Vanessa’s uncle is giving us what he called his Nessa Discount after Vanessa charmed him for me. And I promise, I’m a lovely roommate. I’m tidy. I’m quiet. I like to cook and shop. So, if you don’t mind me trying new recipes, you’ll get plenty of food out of this.” She’d learned ages ago that bribing Cormoran with food was an almost foolproof method. She hoped it would help in this instance.

“You know I’m discrete. So, if you have a date I have no problem keeping to my room, or even leaving the flat.” He winced. He definitely winced.

“And,” she finished with, “You’ll have me there to help you if something should happen with your leg.”

“So you’re to be my live in nurse?!” Cormoran finally erupted. “Robin, you are my business partner. Not my maid. Not my mother. Not my nurse. It isn’t your job to look after me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not!”

“It is!!” She insisted. “If something happens to you I lose everything, Cormoran. My job. My income." She paused. "Something I love most in the world. It’s a complete no brainer to me.”

He remained silent for a moment, taking that in. Then, “How are we to explain it to Sam and Andy, Nick and Ilsa? They’ll all think…Well you know what they’ll think.”

“Are you really worried about that? Seriously?”

“I am! It doesn’t look professional Robin! Living with my business partner? Honestly!” 

Thankfully she was prepared for this. It was no secret to her that Nick and Ilsa had hopes for something to evolve between their two mates. Ilsa was always picking Robin’s brain about what Cormoran was upto today, or “Don’t you just love that red half zip sweater of his. It makes him look so rugged.”

Ilsa was shameless really. But it had come in handy for this situation.

“Well, as far as Nick and Ilsa are concerned they’re over the moon. They’ve hated the idea of you in that tiny flat above the office for the last few years. Nick said he was always worrying about you losing your footing and falling down the stairs. They were both _delighted_ when I explained this idea, so I don’t think we need to worry about them. They understand our work. They know my situation. They’re one hundred percent on board with this and they don’t think it’s weird or inappropriate.”

He looked affronted. “You’ve already talked to them about it?”

“Sure. Ilsa has become my closest friend, next to you, since I stayed with her and Nick after what happened in July with Matt and then that business with Raff. Add to that, she’s the one who connected me with Paul and I wanted to be sure she understood that I wasn’t upset with Paul, only that I was trying to help you. She grasped the situation immediately and assured me that Paul would as well.”

She narrowed her eyes, “And as for Sam and Andy, I don’t think either of them would bat an eye at this point. Sam is so irreverent anyway, he’d probably think it was hilarious and Andy, with his MS would understand the reasons if you really felt we needed to explain it. No one else needs to know. Unless we choose to tell them. Which would be up to you.”

Cormoran was completely still and silent. His pint in front of him untouched for the last fifteen minutes as she laid out her plan. She waited somewhat impatiently, for an outright refusal. But was still hoping he’d be sensible. Her arguments were good. Her logic was sound. Her plan a good one.

Finally, “I’ll think about it.”

He lifted his pint to drain it, obviously preparing to leave. “Do you mind if I take this with me?” he indicated the file with all of the information on the flat.

“No. Go ahead.” This was better than she’d dared hope. “Vanessa said we need to let Uncle David know by Wednesday if possible. Just think about it and let me know if you have any other questions.”

Feeling as though she should make one last attempt, especially because she didn’t want to leave the tension hanging there between them, she laid her hand lightly on the forearm he was resting on the table and waited until his blue eyes met her grey.

“I know it’s not what you were expecting. I know it sounds odd at first. But I really think it makes the most sense for you and me. But I’ll respect whatever you decide. Please understand that. This doesn’t need to change anything other than your living quarters.”

But a girl could hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come later today. I'm working on the next chapter now.


	4. Chapter 4

Home, is where I want to be  
But I guess I'm already there  
I come home, she lifted up her wings  
I guess that this must be the place

**This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody) – The Lumineers**

As Cormoran exited the pub his head was spinning. What _could_ she be thinking? _Was_ she thinking? Did she not realize what just happened? What she’d just put in his head? What she’d just done to him? Did she not realize?

Oh, he understood the office, that was easy. He could work anywhere. Robin was much the same. The office was easy. At least the renting of it. The deciding on it. Actually being in the space with her…Well didn’t that just go to his point?

He already had to deal with seeing her in the office in her tasteful clothes and glowing at him all the time. He already had to remember to avoid meeting her eyes too long or reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear for her.

He really wanted to know what that felt like.

How the _hell_ did she think he’d be able to stand _living_ under the same roof with her.

Seeing her just fresh from the shower. All dewy and fresh smelling.

Would that bright hair still be bright copper when it was wet? Or would it be a dull amber?

See...It was already happening. He couldn’t even focus on reasons why they couldn’t live together because his mind was throwing up fantasy after fantasy of Robin in their potential shared home.

Robin sitting at the breakfast bar with a glass of wine, smiling, while they talked as he made them an omelet after returning home from tailing a mark.

Robin wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt curled on the end of a sofa working away on her laptop while he drank a beer and watched the Arsenal game. Chatting with her during commercials. Her leaning over to show him something on the computer and him catching a whiff of her shampoo.

Robin wrapped in a towel walking from her bath to her bedroom.

Robin cooking for him and Nick and Ilsa, the four of them having a laugh.

Robin kissing him goodnight.

Robin climbing into bed.

Robin…

He shook his head. There’s no way. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing. Obviously she doesn’t understand that now that she’s not with Matthew anymore and the protection of her engagement and wedding rings is gone, his libido has started throwing him flashes of him wrapped around her.

He thought he’d been picking up small signs that she might return his interest, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was deluded. Surely, she wouldn’t want to live with him, almost beg him to agree to sign the lease, if she thought he was attracted to her. Clearly, she just saw him as a friend. Someone to look after. Like he was a fucking child.

He reached Denmark Street and was digging out his keys to open the door when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He opened the door and ducked inside the foyer before pulling his phone out to see a text from Nick.

He decided Nick could wait.

As he climbed the stairs to his flat he stubbornly blocked out any thoughts of Robin. And her ridiculous idea. Even if some of what she’d had to say did make sense.

It would be nice to not have to go up and down steps on days when his leg was playing up. Especially in the winter when he woke with stiffness in that knee that never seemed to really ease unless he was using the heating pad that had mysteriously appeared on his desk this past winter.

He was a good enough detective to figure out who’d done that. But they’d never spoken of it. Just as they never spoke of it when the heating pad went missing for a few days every month.

He unlocked his flat and dropped the file on the table before stepping into the loo.

As he was washing his hands and brushing his teeth for the night he continued to mull over the positives of the flat she’d found. Leaving “Roommate Robin” out of it of course.

He quite liked the idea of having a place to park the BMW that wouldn’t cost him an arm and a leg. He’d save quite a bit if he could eliminate that cost. She hadn’t thought of that.

Having a flat that wasn’t connected to his office would also mean he wouldn’t have to deal with press at his door the way he’d done quite often since Robin had come along. Nick and Ilsa wouldn’t need to harbor him anymore.

He wished this hadn’t happened. He’d have done anything to avoid the awkwardness he was afraid was now going to plague them. And they’d just gotten back to a good place not long ago.

After the Chiswell case, they’d reached a level of understanding that he’d never experienced with anyone else. He didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose the comfort of Robin.

He flopped down on top of his duvet and reopened the file he’d snatched off the table on his way from the loo. It couldn’t hurt to thumb through her notes again.

As he came to the rental agreement he noticed a sheet of notebook paper tucked into it and pulled it out. Outlined in Robin’s beautiful gently looping handwriting was her list of reasons for him to accept this proposal, ahem, this plan. It was clear she hadn’t meant to leave it in the file.

_Item 1: No stairs_

_Item 2: Parking for BMW and Land Rover. No storage fees._

Apparently, she hadn’t missed that one after all. He should have known better.

_Item 3: Low rent_

_Item 4: Three bedrooms, meaning we can have an office at home._

_Item 5: Spacious floor plan. We won’t be stumbling over each other._

_Item 6: Master bedroom has en suite loo. Cormoran can have that room._

_Item 7: I’ll offer to do the marketing and cooking. Food is his weakness._

Well. She wasn’t wrong. But still. That was playing dirty. 

_Item 8: Neither of us will have an issue with the other working long hours._

_Item 9: We’re both neat and tidy people._

_Item 10: He needs me._

Yes. That was true. But not in the way she meant.

He needed her as a reliable partner. He needed her as a reliable friend. He needed her as a sounding board.

But he _wanted_ her in so many other ways. Too many ways to start counting. In his bed. Against the wall. On his desk. On _her_ desk.

“Looks like we’re counting now. Stop it you fat fuck! Just stop!” He mumbled to himself.

Looking for a distraction, any distraction he slid his phone out of his pocket to see what Nick had wanted.

_Oi Oggy! We still on for the match tomorrow?_

Cormoran texted back an affirmative and waited.

_Cheers! Robin talk with you yet? She showed us the pictures of the office. Looks nice. Ils likes the location too._

“Nope. Not taking that bait.” He left Nick’s text unanswered and chucked his phone to the side.

Closing the file and laying it on his nightstand, he started to prepare for bed. Removing his prosthesis, going through his stump care routine, and finally settling under the duvet with his phone in his hand.

He reached over to pick up Robin’s list of arguments and read through them again, stifling a yawn.

She had made several good points.

As he was drifting off to sleep his last thought was an image of Robin moving around the kitchen in the pictures she’d given him. She looked lovely.

He was startled from sleep the next morning by the buzzing of his pillow. Which was odd. Pillows shouldn’t buzz. He shoved his hand under the buzzing bunch of fluff to find his phone was ringing. The caller ID showed Lucy’s number. He pressed ignore. He couldn’t deal with her first thing in the morning.

It was ten o’clock and he was meant to be at Nick and Ilsa’s for lunch at 12:30 and they were planning to watch the Arsenal match shortly after. Ilsa would either stay or, more likely, retreat to her home office to work. He enjoyed these days with Nick. But he wasn’t looking forward to dodging Ilsa’s questions about Robin and the flat.

Resigned, he started to get himself together.

A quick shower.

Shave.

Leg.

Tea.

Fag.

Shirt, pants, shoes.

He grabbed his phone from where he’d left it charging after Lucy had caused his pillow to buzz him awake, snatched his coat from the hook by the door, his woolly blue scarf along with it, and set out for Octavia Street.

While on the train he cast his mind back over the events of the evening before. Robin’s reassurances that his refusal wouldn’t change anything. Her earnest reasoning for why they should do this. Her prettily written list of reasons. He couldn’t deny she’d made some very good and valid points. Maida was a nice area, only a ten-minute tube ride from the office they’d signed the lease on last night.

It was centrally located, and the local pub was a nice one. The flat was nicer than anything he’d ever lived in before, excepting Charlotte’s flat and nothing could come close to that.

He exited the train and climbed the steps from the station to the street. He lit a cigarette and started toward the Herbert’s. As he reached front door and rang the bell he heard Robin’s laugh and as suddenly as a bubble pops, his decision was made.


	5. Chapter 5

I've made up my mind  
Don't need to think it over  
  
**Chasing Pavements – Adele**

“Nick? If you don’t put your back into this, I’m going to take my leg off and give you a whack with it.” Cormoran groused through gritted teeth.

“Sorry mate! It’s just a little unwieldy,” was the muffled response from the other end of the charcoal grey sofa that was currently halfway through the front door of a lovely Maida Vale flat.

Inside the flat Robin and Ilsa were unpacking boxes of dishes into the cabinets in the kitchen and chatting about what would be a more efficient place for the cooking utensils versus the eating and serving utensils.

Cormoran had to admit, the flat was very nice now that most of their belongings were in it. Having not had a stick of furniture aside from their beds and dressers between them, nor much else to fill a flat, they’d agreed, as part of the Roommate Agreement he’d insisted on, to start a joint account to pay household bills and cover groceries and the like.

He’d left it to Robin to choose the furnishings, since Ilsa had already had a vision board, whatever the hell that was, started. Robin had spent the last few weeks combing shops and online retailers with Ilsa and finding the basics they would need. The result was an attractive and cozy mix of furniture that left the main room open enough for him to navigate easily without his prothesis. Not for the first time through this process he was marveling at Robin’s ingenuity and talent at forethought.

The sofa he’d just finished wrestling with Nick was placed next to the deep grey armchair and ottoman that was definitely large enough to accommodate his bulk but plush enough to be comfortable for long stretches and the ottoman was placed just so that it could be used by someone seated in the chair or someone using that end of the couch.

On either side of the chair were end tables made of some kind of dark wood and topped with elegant gooseneck lamps that could be swiveled around to provide more light to those seated next to them. Coasters made of Scrabble tiles were already placed on both tables.

In front of the couch was a low and wide table that matched the end tables but had baskets for storage under the table top. Those baskets were already filling up with what appeared to be a knitting project, (who knew), a couple board games, and one basket was left empty. He assumed that was for him. The storage basket equivalent of an empty drawer at your significant other’s home. The only difference being that Robin wasn’t his significant other.

She was now his roommate.

As of today.

He glanced over to the kitchen where she and Ilsa were now hanging pots and pans from the overhead rack above the stove. She looked happy. Her hair was bundled and pinned in a haphazard fashion on top of her head, which was a relatively new look for her. He’d not seen her hair that disheveled before. It suited her in a way he’d never have realized if he hadn’t seen it on her. As he watched she brushed a bronze strand away from her cheek, before reaching up to jab a pin back in place.

She was wearing exercise leggings that were slightly cropped just below the ends of her calves, trainers with what appeared to be no socks and a fitted hoodie in pale green.

He really liked her in green.

Though she tended toward a multitude of different shades of blue, and neutral colors for her office wear. He’d rarely seen her in colors other than those.

One time, specifically, was embedded permanently in his mind. Well…two actually, but he was certain it didn’t count since she’d been wearing the same thing both times.

She caught him gazing at her.

“Did you need something Cormoran? A beer?” She turned to the fridge that she and Ilsa had already stocked with everything they could need for a week or so.

“Oh. No. No. I’m fine. Do you two need help with anything?” He made sure to include Ilsa in the question.

“It’s just organization at this point now. My favorite bit.” Robin grinned at him with a twinkle in her eyes that caused his heart to stutter for a moment.

She just glowed. Living flame.

This had been such a bad idea.

Too late now, mate.

He could have kissed Ilsa when she chose that moment to interject, “Nick? Why don’t you and Cormoran go check out the local. Celebrate a job well done with a pint or two, while Robin and I finish up here. We’ll meet you in about an hour, hour and a half and then we’ll head on home.”

“Right-o. Let’s go mate. They could change their minds at any moment.” Nick scampered, laughing, away from Ilsa who he’d just leaned over to kiss, before she could bean him with the frying pan in her hand.

Cormoran glanced at Robin to be sure she was OK with this suggestion. It wouldn’t do to desert the field on the first day of the campaign without her acquiescence.

She just smiled and made a shooing motion before turning back to Ilsa to continue their debate on which cabinet would be right for the mugs.

Cormoran followed Nick through the hallway, grabbing his coat and scarf from the coat stand by the door and heading off in the direction of The Priory Tavern.

So far, so good.

You can do this, he told himself. Then wondered when he’d started lying to himself.

As soon as the front door closed Robin braced herself for the onslaught. She knew Ilsa would be ready to pounce and she didn’t have to wait long.

“I’m so glad this is happening Rob. I think it’s going to be the best thing to happen to you both in a long time.”

“I hope so.” Robin continued unpacking the box of dishes, wadding the packing paper into an already unpacked box as she did so. “He’s been so quiet lately. It worries me.”

“It’s Cormoran. He’s not exactly verbose on his best days.” Ilsa rejoined with shrug and a chuckle. “He’s not so good at change dear. I don’t know if you’d noticed.”

“No. I know that. It’s just, he seems to be even quieter. It’s like he isn’t quite sure what to say to me.” Robin paused and turned to face Ilsa. “Like just now, he was watching me, almost like he’d never seen me before.”

“Rob, if you hadn’t lived with Nick and I for the month that you did while you waited for Paul’s old roommate to move out, I’d have continued to think you woke up looking perfectly groomed and pressed. He hasn’t exactly seen you in workout gear, or much casual wear now has he?” This was a very good point. Robin hadn’t thought of that.

“You know, you should wear green more often. It suits your coloring so well.”

“I used to wear it all the time, but after we moved to London, Matthew decided it was too flashy with my hair and would make comments about it anytime I wore it. So I stopped.” Robin knew there was more to it than that. She knew the reason Matthew hated her in green. But she knew that sharing that reason would only prolong this line of conversation.

“And now Matthew is gone Rob. Praise Jesus.” Ilsa lifted her hands in a mocking prayer, then continued, “We’ll go shopping next day off you have. It’s time to go green.”

They worked for another hour and a half putting away dishes, shelving DVDs and books in the built ins on either side of the fireplace, above which Nick had hung the new flat screen she’d found second hand. She’d hoped Cormoran would appreciate it for his Arsenal games and she had been rewarded with the sight of his eyes lighting up when he’d seen Nick unloading it from the truck she’d rented to pick up her purchases from the short-let storage unit.

As soon as the last box had been unloaded Ilsa headed to the loo Robin had commandeered for herself. Robin washed her hands in the kitchen sink and opened the fridge to take out the chicken breasts she’d moved from Ilsa’s freezer to the fridge this morning. She set them in the sink to continue defrosting while they joined the men at the pub. She was looking forward to the meal she’d planned to cook to celebrate the move. She hoped Cormoran liked what she’d had planned.

A few minutes later she texted Cormoran to let him know she and Ilsa were setting out for The Priory. Unsurprisingly there was a white wine waiting for her when they arrived at the table the men had cadged. The men stood as she and Ilsa approached, to allow them to slide into the booth. She smiled at Cormoran as she lifted her glass, tilting it slightly in his direction in a silent gesture of thanks. He nodded and turned to smile at Ilsa’s teasing of Nick.

While it was no Tottenham, Robin liked what she saw of this new pub. It was warm and welcoming, as all good pubs are. The service was quick, the food smelled heavenly, and the wood was just the right color of old. She felt she could become used to bundling in here a few nights a week. Especially if Cormoran was on the other side of the table.

Two glasses of wine and countless silly toasts and bursts of laughter later, Nick and Ilsa were making noises about heading home. She gathered up her coat, scarf and bag and stepped out into the cold. She was buffeted by the wind immediately upon exiting and then found herself gathered into a bear hug from Nick. He pulled her close and bent to her ear, whispering, “Give Oggy some time. It’ll smooth out,” before pulling back and looking her in the eye for emphasis. She nodded, feeling as though she might be close to welling up.

But she was next caught in Ilsa’s arms, being given a laughing hug and two smacking kisses on the cheeks. “Don’t forget…shopping on your next day off. We need to get you more green.” Ilsa was slightly tipsy and giggly, but Robin loved her that way.

She laughed as Ilsa launched herself at Cormoran, wrapping her arms around him in a tight squeeze and drawing his face down for her customary kisses. He chuffed a at something she mumbled to him, patted her back and then spun her to Nick with a, “Take your woman home man!”

Goodbyes were called and sang out and within seconds Nick and Ilsa had disappeared to the Warwick Ave train station and Cormoran was lighting a cigarette and gesturing Robin ahead of him on the pavement, before coming alongside her.

She slanted a glance up at him. “Hungry?”

“Could eat.”

“I have some chicken defrosting at the flat. Sound good?”

“Robin, you don’t have to cook for me.”

“I know. But you also don’t have to tell me I don’t have to. It’s in the agreement. And you know I like to cook. Matthew never liked letting me experiment and Paul preferred the kitchen to himself. He said it helped him think when he was working on a play. I’m looking forward to having my own kitchen again.”

He nodded. “Can I help you with something? I’m good at chopping.”

She smiled. Maybe this was going to be easier than she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is likely all for the evening. I'll pick it back up tomorrow. 
> 
> Thanks for all the love and support. This has been such an easy and fun experiment. Made even easier by your praise.


	6. Chapter 6

You can call me Queen B  
And baby I’ll rule

**Royals – Lorde**

Robin woke early the next morning with a smile in her heart. She and Cormoran had spent the evening talking over current cases as they prepared dinner and she had enjoyed watching her partner clumsily chopping the vegetables for the chicken stir fry she’d planned. It was endearing watching a man who gave every appearance of being capable in all other aspects of his life, struggling with a chef’s knife and onions. The resulting meal was quick and delicious and since the conversation continued to cover their work, it didn’t seem much different than the countless evenings they’d spent back in The Tottenham.

Cormoran had insisted on managing the cleanup, which was nothing really, since Robin’s mother Linda had instilled the motto of “Clean as you go” in all her children during their cooking lessons. Plates and utensils, along with her wine glass went into the dishwasher easily, but Robin still appreciated that Cormoran took that initiative, especially after the years with Matthew, who treated anything he viewed as a household chore as her job.

As she yawned and stretched in her cozily warm bed, Robin decided she was going to start their day with cheese omelets and bacon. She grinned in anticipatory delight, while straightening her bed, as she pictured Cormoran shuffling from his room, grumpy and sleepy eyed to discover breakfast waiting for him.

As she brushed her teeth and went through her skincare routine, put on her makeup and chose her wardrobe for the day she took mental inventory of what she had available and organized her plan of attack in her head.

Within twenty minutes she had the kettle boiling, the bacon frying, and one omelet already plated and waiting. As if on cue she heard Cormoran’s door open. He entered the living area and paused.

“Good morning!” Robin chirped.

“What?” was the slightly raspy response.

“Are you hungry? I thought I’d start our first day at the new office with a celebratory breakfast. Come sit down. Unless you’d rather have a smoke first?” Robin indicated the ashtray on the coffee table in the lounge.

Cormoran nodded and pulling out his pack of cigarettes he picked up the television clicker and turned on the morning news.

Robin listened with one ear as she eased bacon off the griddle and lifted the edges of the omelet in the pan. She wondered how long it would take for Cormoran to become human.

She plated the omelet and strips of bacon and deciding to go with the flow, carried two mugs of tea, one dark as creosote and one light and creamed, to the coffee table, before going back to the kitchen and hanging up her apron and gathering their plates and utensils. She joined him at the table to watch the news while they ate.

Cormoran barely glanced at her.

Hmmm.

“Well, you knew he isn’t much a morning person Robin,” she thought to herself as she forked up a bite of cheesy egg. “Not everyone pops out of bed like a piece of toast.”

Cormoran finished his meal shortly before she did and as she stood and reached to take his plate from the table his hand shot out and captured her wrist.

The action was sudden, and alarming. Her eyes shot to his and found his blue eyes glittering with something she’d not seen before. Something she wasn’t sure how to describe.

“I was just…” She started.

“No,” he interrupted. “While I appreciate you cooking breakfast for me like a den mother, I will not have you waiting on me. You are _not_ my nurse, my maid, my servant.”

“I know that. You’ve made that clear.” Her tone was sharp. This would not do. At all.

“Cormoran, look at me.”

She wondered how he could glower at her like this and still make her palms tingle with the need to stroke his beard. It was clear to her that he was worried that she would eventually feel he was taking advantage of her and she was just as determined to make him understand that it’s not taking advantage if both parties are sharing the load.

“I think I’ve made it clear that I enjoy cooking. I’ve missed it. It makes me happy.” The glower was receding. But she wasn’t near finished.

“But understand this, if I want to wake up and make a full English breakfast with beans on toast, scones, eggs, bacon, sausages, the works, I will. And you,” she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Will always be factored into that, unless I know you aren’t waking up at the same time, or you aren’t here.”

Now it was her turn to glower.

“I can’t imagine that after spending two and a half years sharing an office, making tea for each other, picking up lunch for each other and sharing snacks and toffees on road trips and stakeouts with each other, you would be any different. Or am I to assume that if you woke before me and made yourself tea you wouldn’t think to make a cup for me?”

“No. Of course not. But it’s not…” He was interrupted by her continued tirade.

“Then please, stop telling me that I am not your maid. What I _am_ is your friend, colleague and now your roommate. And as your friend and colleague I have always been open and honest with you about my feelings.”

He raised an eyebrow at that.

“OK, I’ll amend that to, I have usually always been open and honest with you about my feelings. Added to that, I signed a roommate agreement, that _you_ insisted on, _agreeing_ that I would not hesitate to speak my mind as your roommate. I’m exercising that right, right now.” She paused for emphasis and waited for him to look at her again.

Blue clashed with grey, and she continued, “Stop doing this. You aren’t taking advantage. I’ll tell you when and if you do. What you _are_ doing is ruining my morning and I’m done with it. Now, give me your plate and finish your tea.”

He lifted the plate and she plucked it from his grasp, turned on her heel and set it alongside hers in the dishwasher.

Then she walked back to her bedroom, grabbed her laptop bag and files, scooped up her new cloche, and swanned back through the living room, shrugged on her coat, called a haughty, “I’ll see you at the office. Please run the dishwasher before you leave” over her shoulder, and walked out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Love just needs a witness and a little forgiveness  
And a halo of patience and a less sporadic pace and  
I'm learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes.

**Crystal Ball – P!nk**

As Robin was walking out the door, Cormoran was trying to figure out what had just happened. He knew he wasn’t always at his best in the morning, but he hadn’t meant to upset her. He’d just meant to reinforce that she wasn’t expected to cook and clean for him. He valued her presence and didn’t want her to think she _had_ to take care of him.

He lit a fresh cigarette and swilled the dregs of the tea she’d made him in the bottom of his mug before rising to put the mug in the dishwasher and set it to run.

It was a new mug. Large and made of crockery, glazed an unassuming brown that was uneven and shaded with grey and beige. It felt good in his hand. Weighty. Substantial. He’d noticed that her mug was much smaller, mint green, with branches shaded a darker green wrapping around the mug. It occurred to him that she had obviously chosen their mugs specifically for their personal tastes.

She was a marvel.

And now he felt guilty. He’d upset her and possibly hurt her feelings when all she’d done for the last month was try to make his life easier. Truth be told, all she’d done from the moment he’d met her was make his life easier.

And he was an unmitigated ass acting the way he just had.

Already composing the text in his head, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up their most recent conversation.

He typed,

_I’m sorry. I’m an ass. I hope you…_

He was interrupted by a call coming through. It was from Andy, who was meant to be tailing Mr. Dumpty this morning.

“Andy, what’s up?”

“Cormoran, I’m sorry to ask, but I need to know if you or Robin might be able to cover Mr. Dumpty this morning.” He sounded slightly frantic.

“My daughter woke this morning with a temperature of 39.4 and my wife is out of town. We aren’t allowed to take the kids to school if they have a fever and I need to get her to the doctor.”

Cormoran, who since he’d spent a rough two days in hospital with his nephew Jack last summer now understood a little better how a child being sick could make one feel, replied, “Don’t worry about it. Robin’s setting up the new office this morning with wifi and telephones. I was planning to go in and help her but I’m sure she’ll be able to manage without me. She’d probably prefer it. Text me the details and I’ll take care of Mr. Dumpty today.”

“Thank you Cormoran. I really appreciate this and I’m so sorry for the hassle.” Was the relieved reply.

With a quick “Don’t worry about it. Hope she’s feeling better soon.” Cormoran disconnected the call and pulled his text to Robin back up. Having lost his train of thought for his apology he deleted what he’d already written and sent her a quick update about Andy.

Her response came swiftly.

_OK_

_R_

He immediately noticed that she’d left off her customary kiss from her signature.

Later that afternoon, he’d just tailed Mr. Dumpty to a massage parlor eerily similar to the one he’d visited when they’d been hunting for Noel Brockbank; he’d chosen to ignore the frisson of guilt that reared its head when he’d had that thought.

The pictures he’d taken would give their client, Mrs. Dumpty, the evidence she needed that her husband was on the prowl. But it didn’t help him with the apology he was still trying to compose for his partner.

Somehow, the longer it took to apologize the worse everything he typed had started to sound.

It was nearing 4:00 and he’d barely heard a word from her all day. Only three texts, all concerning office matters, none sent with her usual x ending. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much. But it did. He’d been slightly disconcerted by that x the first time he’d received a text from her ending in one, but as time had gone on and she’d continued to send them, he’d started to value them.

Especially after having accidentally stolen a kiss in the car park that afternoon at the hospital.

Although, was it really stealing if it had been an accident?

Regardless, he knew he needed to fix this situation before she arrived home tonight, or things would be awkward.

As he approached the nearest tube station he spotted a small stand selling flowers. It was a bit cliché, but flowers were a tried and true for a reason.

As he edged around the stand he noticed a small vase, shaped like a bird. In it was three stalks of bamboo. They were wrapped with a satin ribbon in his favorite shade of green.

He carefully lifted the bird and carried it to the cashier, selected a small, plain, unadorned white card and envelope and paid for the lot.

As he stepped away from the stand, his step was quite a bit lighter.

He pulled his phone from his pocket once more, called up a text, and wrote,

_Heading to the flat. Need me to pick up anything? C_

Her response arrived just as he was descending the stairs to the Tube.

_No. Thanks. R_

He glanced at the bamboo plant, “I hope you’re worth it.”

Having spent most of the day tied up in red tape, trying to get the wifi and telephone services set up for the new office, Robin was ready to call it a day at five. She’d achieved all of her objectives, all of the computers were operational, thanks to Spanner, and the phones had just been turned on thirty minutes before.

Their new office was now fully functional and ready to open to clients.

She looked around the reception areas she and Ilsa had painted a color called Rustic Taupe. It was close in color to their last office, but fresher and more welcoming. The seating area no longer held a farty couch, but instead three plush maroon arm chairs and an armless sofa in a shade of blue that was just a smidgen lighter than denim.

It looked lovely and welcoming.

She strolled through to her office to gather her coat and bag and paused a moment to take in the muted green paint Ilsa had declared the office cried for. It was called Trailing Vine and she found it so soothing. Especially when combined with the dark wood of desk Nick had found for her. All it needed were a few pictures on the wall opposite her desk, a cork board, and maybe a plant for the windowsill.

But that could all wait. For now, she just wanted to head back to the flat and have something small to eat. Maybe even try to entice Cormoran into a drink at The Priory.

As she closed the office and locked the doors she thought back to the scene that morning. She’d long ago cleared her aggravation with him out of her mind. She knew that Cormoran had a difficult time with expressing how he felt, and it made sense that he would want to make sure that she didn’t feel she had to do for him. It was certain that he had overreacted this morning, but it was also an awkward situation and they were still trying to settle in to sharing more than just office space. “It’s bound to be tricky occasionally,” she recalled saying to him as they had been discussing their roommate agreement.

Tricky had come a little earlier than either of them had expected. But it was water under the bridge in Robin’s mind. Hopefully he approached it the same way.

If not, she’d deal with it as it came.

The Tube was crowded enough that she was gasping for fresh air by the time she reached the Warwick Ave platform. She dashed up the stairs to the street and started the short walk to the flat, contemplating what she might cook for dinner. Maybe just a mess of spaghetti Bolognese. It was quick and easy and reheated well.

She unlocked the bright blue door to the flat and stepped inside, removed her scarf and coat and hung them on the coat rack, dropped her keys in the shallow bowl on the long table next to the door and headed into the lounge.

Cormoran’s bedroom door was open, but she didn’t see him.

What she did see was a plant on the breakfast bar. It was a bundle of bamboo, wrapped in acid green ribbon and was surprisingly, tucked into the back of a glass robin. It was lovely and adorable. Propped against one of the robin’s wings was a small white envelope.

She reached for it, slit it open and pulled out a plain white card.

Inside was Cormoran’s familiar spiky handwriting.

I’m sorry.  
Breakfast was delicious.  
Dinner is on me.  
Meet me at The Priory.  
C

She smiled and tapped the card against her lips and headed to her room to change into her favorite jeans and sweater.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm sleeping to dream about you  
I'm so damn tired of having to live without you  
But I, I don't mind  
I'm sleeping to dream about you, I'm so tired

**Sleeping to Dream – Jason Mraz**

Robin arrived back at the flat one evening a month later, drenched and shivering. She’d been tailing a woman for a client who was determined to find out where she got her highlights done. Apparently, the mark, who had been laughingly dubbed Bleacher by Cormoran, refused to tell her friend who she went to for highlights, and the friend wanted to know badly enough to hire a private investigator. Robin was not as amused as usual by this tonight.

She’d just gotten to the street from the Tube when a passing lorry had splashed through a puddle causing the classic “splash the pedestrian” that Robin thought only really happened in the movies.

She’d thought wrong.

It had been a shivery walk to the flat and she was ready for warmth and a cup of tea.

“Hiya!” she called as she stepped through the door. She didn’t bother removing her jacket and walked through the hall into the lounge. Cormoran was just rising from the couch carrying a bowl with a spoon in it when she appeared at the end of the hall.

“What happened to you?” He took in her bedraggled state.

“Lorry. Puddle. Cold.”

“I made tomato soup and cheese toasties since I didn’t know what time you’d be back. That OK?”

Over the last month of cohabitating they’d fallen into a pattern that seemed to suit them both fairly well. When both were home at dinner time Robin usually took the lead on cooking, with Cormoran practicing his knife skills, as they filled each other in on the events of the day. But on days like today, when one of them was stuck out in the field, the other would usually put together something that reheated easily or ordered take away. On days when they were both out late, they’d usually meet up at The Priory for a meal and a drink before heading home.

“That actually sounds perfect. Would you mind heating it up for me while I go take a quick shower?”

He nodded and moved toward the kitchen, watching her as she slipped down the hall past his room. Within seconds he could hear the faint sounds of her shower running.

 _Think of something else, you fat fuck_ , he admonished himself. _Get her dinner ready_.

Less than ten minutes later she was back at the breakfast bar and he was handing her a glass of wine as she tucked in to tinned soup and warm cheesy bread.

“Mmm. This is just perfect. Thank you so much.” Her hair was still wrapped in one of her towels that seemed to be specifically made for that and she was bundled into what he’d come to learn was her favorite pyjamas, red and green plaid flannel pants and an old Masham High School t shirt that was worn soft enough to drape around every curve of her shoulders and torso, leaving just enough to his imagination to make him want to remove his leg and bludgeon himself with it to remove the thoughts in his head.

“Tell me about Bleacher. Did you solve the mystery?” He hoped the details of the ridiculous case would distract him from the thoughts trying to tempt him into things he shouldn’t do.

“Well, it would be very helpful if our client knew when she was due for an appointment. Narrow the timeframe.” Robin rolled her eyes over the ineptitude of their client, while taking another bite of cheese toasty. “Today we went to the nail salon. To four different boutiques. And we met our mates for tea. I fail to see why this whole situation is such a quest, but I guess it pays the bills and keeps me in cheese toasties.” She grinned adorably at him as she tore the remains of her sandwich in two before swiping one of the pieces through the soup and taking a bite.

 _Stop it. Adorable and Robin should not go together in your head._ Clearly, he was losing the fight. Bludgeoning was his only resort.

Robin popped the last bit of sandwich in her mouth and rose to rinse her bowl. He couldn’t help but smell what he now knew was the scent of her body lotion as she passed him. It was just slightly stronger than it normally was.

“I’m assuming from your attire that you’re in for the night?” He asked, torn between wanting her to say yes and wanting her to say no. He had planned to try to talk her into a drink at The Priory before she’d come in looking like she’d bathed in a mud puddle.

“Yeah. I’m still a bit shivery and I need to go over some paperwork my lawyer sent me today while I was tailing Bleacher. Hard to do on a mobile.”

“Is it final then?” Her divorce from Matthew had been the one thing still hanging over her that occasionally clouded her eyes. He was ready to see those clouds cleared away.

“Looks like it may be. I’ll know for sure when I read the documents. But, fingers crossed.” She held up her crossed fingers and gave him a toothy smile.

“Do you want me to stay and go over them with you?” Once again, torn between a yes and a no, but he felt it was the right thing to do.

She made a pffft sound with her lips. “No…God no. You go have your fags and bitter. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably be asleep when you get back.”

“Ok. If you change your mind…” _What a glutton for punishment you are Cormoran Strike._

“Go. I’m fine. I’m just glad it’s Friday and I have nothing to look forward to tomorrow other than Ilsa’s promotion party. 7:30 tomorrow night. You didn’t forget?”

He shook his head, indicating he hadn’t and she shooed him away with a laugh as she turned to pick up her laptop bag from where she’d dropped it against the back of the couch when she’d arrived.

“Good. I’m glad the sticky notes on your bedroom door are working.”

He laughed and lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck as he watched her head toward her room. Looked like it was going to be a three-pint night.

Four hours and quite a few more than three pints later, Cormoran unlocked the door to the flat. Trying to be as quiet as he could so as not to disturb Robin, he crossed through the living room and headed toward his bedroom. He’d just finished brushing his teeth and was had just sat down on his bed to remove his leg, when he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

He grabbed one of his crutches from under his bed and moved swiftly to his bedroom door, listening for any other sounds that might indicate the flat had been broken into.

Hearing nothing, he eased his door open, praying the hinges wouldn’t make the slight squeak they occasionally did.

He moved as quickly as possible into the living room and saw nothing out of order. But just as he turned back toward the hall with the intent of checking the rest of the flat, he heard another small sound, coming from Robin’s end of the hall.

Gripping the crutch tighter he darted to her door, visions of gorilla masks at her window swimming in front of his eyes.

There was a sliver of light showing through the crack under her door and as he eased the door open he saw that Robin was tangled in her bed sheets and fighting an invisible assailant.

He grasped the situation instantly.

He leaned the crutch against her wall and moved toward the bed. He needed to do what he could to wake her and then he’d deal with what came next.

Carefully easing himself down onto the very edge of her mattress he softly said her name, “Robin?”

She whimpered.

The sound darted straight into his gut.

Afraid to touch her and have her think he was her assailant in her sleep he tried her name again, but with a little more volume. “Robin, wake up. Robin.”

She turned her face toward him. He thought maybe she recognized his voice.

He tried again, “Robin. Open your eyes. It’s just a dream. You’re safe. Robin.”

Her breathing slowed slightly, and he judged it safe to touch her. He laid his hand on her shoulder and waited. Speaking softly again, “Robin? Can you open your eyes? Please?”

He watched as her lashes trembled. “It’s OK. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He was rewarded with the sight of her eyelids fluttering over those blue grey eyes, now awash in tears.

He whispered, “Are you OK?” as his thumb gently stopped the tear that was tracing down the side of her nose.

She nodded but kept her eyes locked on his. Stormy blue grey pleading silently with his dark blue.

“Can I get you anything? A drink?” He looked around for the glass he knew she kept on her bedside table and only then registered the broken glass on the floor. She must’ve knocked the glass off the table in her struggles and it had shattered on the patch of hardwood not covered by the area rug that took up most of the floor space in her room.

He made to rise from the edge of her bed, planning to go to the hall closet and get the broom to sweep up the glass before he forgot about it and she ended up steping on it, but as soon as he stirred both of her hands shot out and dug into the arm of his sweater.

“Don’t leave me. Please?” Her whisper was broken by hiccoughing breaths.

“Shhh.” He soothed. He reached for the hand clutching his sweater and gently squeezed it. “You knocked your water glass off the table and it broke. I was just going to get the broom to clean it up. But it can wait.”

“Please stay,” she rasped out.

“I’m going nowhere.” He brushed another tear from her cheek and tried not to notice how she turned her cheek into his palm as he did so. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that.

At last she started to move about restlessly and he quickly stood up, though he kept her hand in his. He’d promised he wasn’t leaving her and he figured she’d realize he was keeping that promise if he kept her hand in his.

Her bedclothes were a tangled mess though and it appeared that she was trying to straighten them.

“Want some help?” She nodded.

He reached down and flipped the sheets back, revealing her pyjama pant clad legs. She reached for the edges of the sheet and he helped her restore the order he knew she craved desperately in moments like this.

In a matter of moments, she was once again settled under her duvet and he glanced at her face to find her eyes waiting for his. “Shall I go get the broom?”

She nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears. “You don’t have to…”

“No. You stay there. It won’t take a moment.” He moved to the hall way, making sure to stay within her line of sight the entire time. She was still spooked, and he knew from personal experience that it wasn’t over yet.

Instead of the broom and dustpan he grabbed the handvac she’d purchased and carried it back into the room. The water had all been absorbed by the rug, and so he stooped down on his good knee and quickly vacuumed the small shards of glass away. He didn’t miss her flinch at the sudden noise.

Once he finished he set the vacuum aside and then glanced up at her and once again asked, “Can I get you anything?”

Just as before, she shook her head. But she started to move again. This time she was scooting over, making room on her bed. He had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going.

“Robin?”

In a tiny voice that ripped at his heart she whispered, “Would you stay with me? Please? Just until I fall back to sleep? I need you to stay with me. You’ll make me feel safe.”

“Are you sure?” He knew this wasn’t the best decision. But he also knew that he couldn’t leave her. Not like this. Not in this state.

She nodded and reached out a hand to him. He grasped it and eased into the space she’d made for him. “Let me get rid of my leg. You settle in.”

She turned away from him, curling into such a small ball that he was seized with the urge to gather her into his lap and hold her small shivering form against his chest until she relaxed.

He’d known she’d experienced flashbacks and panic attacks. They’d discussed her CBT exercises and other strategies that her therapist had recommended. He’d even told her a bit about the PTSD he’d experienced after what had happened to him in Afghanistan and how he’d coped. It was easier to discuss these things with someone who understood, and he’d been grateful for another commonality with her.

But this...Seeing his capable, stalwart partner reduced to this state caused a burning in his chest he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t used to Robin looking so fragile.

This was the woman who’d knocked John Bristow on his arse with his prosthesis.

The woman who’d successfully defended herself against The Shacklewell Ripper.

She was strong and so incredibly brave.

And at the moment, she needed him to feel safe.

So, him she’d have. Safe she’d be.

He finished removing his leg and slipped under the covers she’d turned back in invitation for him. Immediately he was surrounded by her scent. That delicate floral aura that _was_ Robin.

“Want the light off?”

She didn’t answer but instead turned over and he found himself closer to her than he’d been in a long while. Her eyes, level with his, cloudy once again with unshed tears. He couldn’t stop himself. He reached for her and gathered her into his chest as she started to sob quietly.

He held her close and tight in both arms. Her legs tangling with his. One of her arms gripping his sweater in the small of his back and the other tucked against her chest between them, her palm pressed to his chest, just above his heart.

He rubbed her back and laid his cheek against her hair and just held her.

And wrapped tightly together, for only the second time since they’d met, they weathered the storm.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoo...This one was a stop and starter.

And haven't you heard?  
I've fallen head first

Just look in his eyes  
They're blue as the skies

**Your Song – Kate Walsh**

The breeze outside was causing shadows from the tree just outside her window to dance across her face. She could see the play of light and shadow even from behind her still closed eyelids. She didn’t want to open them. Not yet.

Nightmares of rubber gorilla masks and not being able to breathe didn’t occur often anymore. Not nearly as often as they’d used to. The therapist she’d started seeing again after she’d left Matthew had helped her understand triggers and how to combat them. She didn’t really have nightmares at all anymore.

Her dreams had become different. The kinds of dreams she had now often made her short of breath for different reasons.

She had no idea what had triggered the nightmare last night. She’d had every reason to have pleasant dreams as she’d readied herself for bed. She’d signed the final paperwork for the divorce, she and Cormoran were settled into the office and this flat, and she was looking forward to celebrating her best friend’s promotion to full partner at the law firm the next day.

But, sometimes nightmares just happened.

Robin finally opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. Everything was familiar. There was her gorgeous rug, in shades of rust, gray and blue. Her dresser with her perfume bottle and assorted trinkets. The curtains Ilsa had given her, filmy and pale blue, fluttering in the breeze that had made the leaves dance.

What was not familiar was the hand currently holding hers and resting just under her breasts. Nor was the body curled snugly behind hers. The chin her head was tucked under. The knee hitched against her hip. The elbow curled under and pillowing her head.

Not familiar. But certainly comforting. And warm. Strong.

She knew the scent of him. Cigarette smoke caught in his woolly jumper. Beer. And the slight tinge of mint.

Cormoran’s scent was as familiar to her as her perfume.

While waking up with him curled around her was surprising, the way he’d cared for her last night hadn’t been. She’d known, even in the midst of her panic, as soon as she’d heard his voice, that he’d stay with her if she asked him to.

She knew that he’d has his share of nightmares after returning from Afghanistan. He’d told her a little about his experiences with PTSD over shared drinks and food at The Tottenham long ago. She knew he understood trauma and the ripples it sent out in its wake. He'd been opening up more and more now that they were living in the same space. Allowing her to share her therapy experiences and sharing insights from his time in therapy.

She also knew that he cared about her enough to not want to leave her alone when she was in that state. He’d been there for one of her panic attacks before and he’d been as kind then as he had been last night, though in different ways.

Carefully, Robin eased herself away from Cormoran until she was able to scoot off the bed. She tiptoed to her dresser and grabbed a pair of leggings, a t shirt, and pants, and, leaving the bedroom door open, headed for a shower.

Ten minutes later she glanced into her room as she passed the door on her way to the kitchen and saw that Cormoran had turned slightly onto his stomach, with the hand that had been holding hers now curled around her pillow.

With a small smile tilting the right corner of her mouth, she entered the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast.

Fresh orange juice, bacon, omelets, toast and tea. All Cormoran’s favorites.

It wasn’t long before she heard the unmistakable sounds of her partner heading down the hallway toward his own room. She resisted trying to sneak a peek at him to gauge his mood. He’d earned his privacy. But she was anxious, though she wasn’t sure why.

She went about setting his mug out, getting them both plates and utensils, humming softly along with the music playing from the small speaker Nick and Ilsa had given them as a flat warming present, as she did so.

She’d just plated his omelet when he finally made his appearance. He was in fresh jeans, a slightly rumpled white button down, sleeves rolled, as usual, to just below his elbows. He was freshly showered, and his beard neatly trimmed. Every day Cormoran. Comforting. Familiar.

“Morning! Do you want the news on or…?” She indicated the little speaker plugged in on the counter that was playing Kate Walsh softly.

“No, no…This is fine.” His voice was slightly raspy, though she wasn’t sure if that was still sleep or because of too many cigarettes the night before. “This looks good Robin. Cheers.” He lifted a slice of toast and took a huge bite before washing it down with a gulp of his customary creosote tea.

“I woke up ravenous and I didn’t want yogurt or a bagel. Bacon seemed necessary.” They shared a grin.

They continued to eat in a companionable silence, something they were both used to and comfortable with. Neither brought up the events of the night before, not because it was awkward, but because neither felt it was needed. They both understood the nature of panic attacks and the need for comfort. And they both understood the need to carry on with the day as though it didn’t matter, because it ultimately didn’t.

As Cormoran finished the last slice of bacon, Robin started washing up. “I didn’t think to ask you last night if you had had a chance to pick up the wine for Nick and Ilsa’s this evening. If you didn’t I can pop out and grab it in a bit, along with your Doom Bar if you need it.” She smiled at him over her shoulder as she rinsed their plates.

“No need. I picked up some of both. Did you have a chance to pick up the gift?” he asked as he lit his first cigarette of the day.

“I did. I hope she loves it.” Robin had wrapped their gift last night after reading through the paperwork from the lawyer. “And, I have even more to celebrate this evening.”

He exhaled a stream of smoke as he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“The paperwork is finished. I signed it all last night. And as soon as I mail it off, which I will do as soon as I step out the front door, I am _officially_ Robin Ellacott again.” She tucked her hair behind her left ear as she finished and grinned up at her partner, who gave her a quiet round of congratulatory applause.

“Congratulations!”

“Thanks!” She dipped a mock curtsy. “It’s good to be back.”

He laughed and rose from his seat as he crushed his cigarette in the ashtray that now lived on the breakfast bar.

As he moved away from the kitchen Robin saw her moment.

She stepped to him and put her hand on his arm to stay him for a moment. He looked down at her and she felt the air shift ever so slightly. His blue eyes met hers and his left brow lifted infinitesimally _._

“Thank you.” She said softly, finally acknowledging the evening before. Then she rose on her toes and very gently, very softly, laid her lips against his for the first time. As she eased away from him, she once again met his eyes with hers and quietly repeated, “Thank you.”

And as she turned to leave the room she heard just the smallest sound, an exhaled breath, and the slight rustle of his shirt, as though he had been about to reach for her.


	10. Chapter 10

If I should be so bold  
I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand  
Tell you from the start how I've longed to be your man

If It Kills Me – Jason Mraz

Cormoran stood rooted to the spot, watching as she walked toward the hallway, and her bedroom.

Had that really just happened?

He blinked.

Then jolted into action.

He caught up with her in the hallway and swiftly, but gently, caught her arm, just below her elbow and turned her to face him.

“Why?”

She gave him a look of confusion, “Why what?”

“Why, Robin?”

“Did I kiss you? Why did I kiss you?” She tilted her head, still slightly confused and he started to wonder if he really had imagined it.

“I’ve wanted to for ages.”

“You…wha…” He spluttered.

“For _ages_ Cormoran. But it just never happened. And,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “I just bloody well wanted to damn it.” She made a frustrated sound and turned as if to leave him again, her arm sliding through his shock slackened grip as she started to walk away. But, just as her palm met his he tangled his fingers with hers. Twining their hands together.

“Cormoran?” she whispered as they both stared at their joined hands.

He raised his eyes to find her blue grey irises once again clouded with tears, “Cormoran, please?” And he understood what she was asking him. Keeping his eyes on hers he raised her hand to his lips, repeating the first kiss he’d ever pressed against her skin.

Her breath caught in a sigh so soft and sweet he was surprised he heard it.

Carefully he moved into her, pressing her gently against the wall of the hallway. Her hand still captured in his, fingers still meshed together. He raised his other hand to her cheek and ran the pad of his thumb along the rising flush on her cheek bone. Watching as her pale lashes lowered and as she had the night before, she turned her cheek into his caress. Her breaths were shallow against his chin and the moment seemed suspended, out of time.

“Me too.”

Her eyes flashed up to meet his, just as he lowered his head and finally pressed his lips to hers.

He released her hand so that he could brace that arm around her, pulling her closer even as he pressed her back to the wall. Her hands lifted to his face, softly brushing his beard as her lips opened slightly beneath his. The tip of her tongue sliding against his lower lip in an invitation he couldn’t help but accept. She tasted better than he had imagined she would. Soft and sweet with a slight tang of orange juice from breakfast. He eased back, slowly, with a sweet nuzzling of his lips against hers.

He watched her face as her eyes opened, showing him blue grey now passion glazed and dazed with wonder. Finally, he allowed himself to brush her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Her arms were still lifted around his neck, the fingers of one hand pressed to the back of his neck while the others played with the soft curls on the back of his head.

Neither said a word.

His forehead lowered to rest against hers as they shared the same air, bodies pressed as closely together as possible, lost in the sensation of rightness.

He watched as she ran her tongue along her lips as though to taste him there. And without warning the grip he’d had on his control just slipped away.

Once again, he lowered his mouth to hers, this time crushing her lips to his and delving into her warm mouth with his tongue. Seeking hers.

She arched against him, with a desperate sound, trying to get closer. His hands found themselves lifting her against the wall. Her legs moving to wrap around his waist as his palms settled on the curves of her bottom, feeling the heat of her skin radiating through the thin material of her leggings.

Her fingers were still tangled in his hair as they plundered each other’s mouths. Sounds of need and pleasure blooming in the air between them.

Robin had no idea where she ended and Cormoran began, she just knew that this was something she’d yearned for, craved, and dreamed about for months now. Cormoran unleashed. Wrapped around her.

He leaned into her further, bracing her against the wall firmly as he slid his hands long the outside of her thighs and back up, sliding along her hips and under her t-shirt to find the warm skin covering her ribcage.

His thumbs traced the indentations between her ribs, even as his mouth left hers to trail soft kisses along her jaw and up to the soft hidden spot behind her ear.

“You’re so warm. You’re always so warm.” He breathed against her neck. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long Robin.” His lips moving to kiss the underside of her chin, his hands once again lifting her bottom to give him better access to nip kisses along her lower neck.

“Why’d you wait?” She gasped, as she felt the slightest edge of his teeth against the place where her shoulder joined her neck before he soothed the tiny sting with his tongue.

“Couldn’t.” His hands returned to her torso. Gliding along her back now, feeling the slight shifts of muscle under her skin as she moved against him. “So smooth.” He buried his nose against her neck, breathing the subtle floral scent that would forever be Robin into his lungs.

The hem of her shirt lay against his wrists, the skin of her lower back and stomach exposed to the cool air of the flat. As his hand brushed against the back of her bra, and his mouth coasted along her collar bones, she moved her hands from his shoulders and neck and lifted her shirt over her head, allowing him full access.

His mouth left her neck as he lifted his head to look at the creaminess revealed to him for the first time. Small brown freckles dotted her shoulders. “You’d wear those tank tops to work out in and every time I’d see your shoulders I’d think about how much I wanted to kiss every freckle there.” He rasped as he brushed a finger along her shoulder.

She caught her breath and pressed her hand to the back of his head again as he lowered his lips to do what he’d just revealed dreaming of. She’d never in her life realized that a shoulder could be that alluring.

She groaned as he returned to her neck, gently biting again that tender spot at the base. “Why does that feel so good?” She gasped, feeling his chuckle against her. He was driving her mad.

She wanted to stay like this forever, but even in the midst of the arousal he was provoking in her she knew that his leg must be hurting.

She cupped either side of his face in her hands as she carefully unlocked her legs from where they’d been gripping his ribs as he’d lifted her higher to gain access to her sternum.

She brought his mouth back to hers as she eased her body back down his. So slowly. He followed her down, keeping her mouth busy as his hands slid along her sides, thumbs finally coming to a rest just below the breasts cupped in a mint green lace bra.

As his thumbs smoothed the skin there, sending tiny shivers of sensation down her spine, he rested his forehead against hers again, rubbed the side of his nose against hers in a gesture sweeter than any she’d expected from him and softly asked, “OK?”

“Perfect. This is perfect.”


	11. Chapter 11

Two hearts fading, like a flower  
And all this waiting, for the power  
For some answer, to this fire  
Sinking slowly  
The water's higher  
Desire  
Desire

With no secrets  
No obsession  
This time I'm speeding with no direction

**Desire- Ryan Adams**

They spent the afternoon wrapped up in each other. Talking and laughing together as they were used to, but now, instead of laughing about the antics of marks they were tailing, or clients they were meeting with, they were laughing at themselves.

“I swear. Every single time Ilsa and I were alone it was, Robin looks lovely today. Don’t you think Corm?”

“The woman is positively shameless. She’d do the same thing to me. ‘Don’t you just love it when Corm wears that red half zip jumper?’” Robin ended on an exasperated laugh.

“Wait. But do you?” He needed to know.

“Do I what?”

“Just love it when I wear that jumper?” he teased, and she swatted his hand away from where it had been busy twining long strands of her hair around his fingers.

They’d been lounging on the couch in various positions for the past few hours. Now that the elephant in the room had been addressed neither felt the need to rush. It was more enjoyable to just enjoy this glow. Her head was in his lap and her legs kicked over the back of the sofa. He’d hardly stopped touching her since he’d taken her hand in the hallway. And she was luxuriating in the warmth of his big hands, tender and kind, along her skin, in her hair.

He grabbed the hand she’d used to swat him and brought it to his lips again. She knew that from here on that small gesture would melt her. It was such an unCormoran like gesture, and yet, at the same time it wasn’t. It fit him, though it shouldn’t have.

“I’m serious.”

“About what?” She’d lost track once his lips had started kissing each knuckle.

“My red jumper. Do you love it when I wear it?” He chuckled at her confused expression.

She snatched her hand from his lips in a show of mock anger, “No.”

“No?” His face fell.

She pretended to think for a moment. “Not as much as I love your woolly blue scarf when you have it wrapped up to your ears. You always look like a little boy and it brings out the blue of your eyes.”

“Really? A little boy? Have you seen me? There’s nothing that could make me look little.”

“No, it’s true.” She swung her legs down from the sofa back and crossed them in front of her, so she could face him. “You look like you were just bundled up to go out and play in the snow and it’s fairly adorable.”

“Something’s wrong with you Ellacott. Deeply wrong, if you find anything about me adorable.” He just couldn’t fathom his face, with its seventeen-time broken nose, being adorable to anyone.

“You don’t see yourself the way I see you. But that’s OK.” She patted his cheek and he took the opportunity to tug her arm and pull her against him again.

“Can you do me a favor and put one of those sticky notes on _your_ bedroom door to remind yourself to get an eye exam?”

“I don’t need one. I like what I see.” She kissed his cheek just above his beard, then slid the rest of the way into his lap and rested her head against his shoulder, her forehead pressed to the warmth of his neck. He hummed deep in his throat, a sound of contentment.

It was so different being free to touch her as he’d wanted to for ages. To hold her close and breathe in her scent, instead of trying to capture it as he had before in the moments they’d spent together and hold it in his lungs until the next time he was allowed to be near enough to smell it. To kiss her cheeks and nose, that lovely tilted mouth. To just have her.

“Can we just skip the party and stay here? I don’t want to subject either of us to Ilsa tonight.” He was only half joking.

“Cormoran Blue Strike! Shame on you!”

He laughed. “You know she’ll start on us the minute we walk through the door. But I guess you’re right. As usual.”

“Too right.” She agreed with a haughty tilt of her head.

He looked at his watch, “Are you hungry?”

“As dependable as the sunrise, your stomach.” Robin shook her head in mock reproof. “Yes, I could eat. Would you like to eat here? I could throw something together if you like. Maybe find a use for that vegetarian bacon you brought home the other day.”

“No. No. I thought it might be nice to actually take you somewhere.” He knew that if she stayed in his lap much longer they’d never leave the house. Self-preservation was kicking in and since he was positive he didn’t want to rush things, he needed to get her out of the flat. Even though she’d given every indication of being on the same wavelength as him, as she usually was, it just seemed a little blokey to try to chivvy her right into bed. Giving it time was better.

“Ooh. Our first date.” She glanced down at her leggings and the t-shirt she had retrieved from the hall floor as Cormoran had groaned regretfully while watching her pull it back on.

”What ever shall I wear?!” Her tone gently mocking 

“Hmmm.” He pretended to give it some thought before snagging her laughing gaze with his, “Something green.”

“Ahhh. I think I can manage that.” As she started to shift herself off his lap so that she could go dig out the green sweater Ilsa had talked her into on that long-ago shopping trip for green clothes, he tugged her back for one last blazing kiss. His hand buried in her hair, cupping the back of her head, other hand stroking the side of her neck, sending frissons of arousal snaking through her stomach and lower.

He finally released her, leaving her short of breath and almost tempted to pin him to the couch. But he simply pressed a whisper light kiss on her lips and whispered, “Feed me.” Followed by a remarkably boyish grin that she found impossible to resist.

“Ok. OK. Give me five minutes.”

His blue eyes were filled with a warmth she realized had been showing her the truth of his feelings for her all along. “I’ll be here.” And she knew he would be. 

She strolled casually from the room before dashing down the hall and into her room to search out that sweater. She found it quickly and exchanged her t-shirt for it, before sitting down at her dresser to brush out her hair and apply a couple coats of mascara. She finished with a spritz of perfume on both wrists and her neck, trailing a finger from the moisture rapidly drying on her neck, down to just above the valley between her breasts. A scent trail for him to possibly follow later.

He'd admitted earlier that one of the first things he’d found alluring about her hadn’t been her hair or her face, but the way she’d smelled. “One day I walked into the office shortly after you’d left,” he’d said as they’d twined together shortly after their explosion of desire in the hallway. “And I smelled flowers. I realized it was your perfume and I realized that I missed it when you weren’t in the office for long periods of time.” He’d buried his nose in her neck again and inhaled lavishly, causing her to erupt into fits of giggles and try to squirm out of his hold.

She checked herself one last time in the mirror, blushing at the thoughts racing in her head.

Had this really just happened today? Had she really just taken a wrecking ball to the barriers they’d imposed on their relationship? And was it supposed to be this easy to slip into? Already being in his arms felt normal, like she’d been in them for years. She smiled at herself in the mirror and brushed a finger across the blush rising on her cheeks, recalling how he’d done the same thing this morning. Sighing a sigh of utter contentment, she grabbed her booties and dashed back down the hall, before slowing to a casual walk as she entered the living area.

“Almost ready. Just give me a mo’ to get my boots on.”

Cormoran glanced around to see her in an emerald green sweater that looked like it might have belonged to him it was so big on her. The neck was so wide that it slouched off one shoulder, showing of the freckles he was so captivated by and came down long enough to stop at her mid-thigh. He watched as she bent her leg at the knee to slide her boot on and then propped her foot on the rung of one of the stools at the breakfast bar and leaned over to zip the zipper. He suppressed a groan. But grinned when she flipped her hair out of her face and sent him a knowing smile.

She straightened and slid her bag across her chest and as he approached her she took his hand in both of hers, rose up on her toes and kissed him, exactly the same way she had that morning, while they stood in exactly the same spot.

“Let’s go see if we can fill that bottomless pit of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le sigh.
> 
> I think this may be it for me today. I only have another hour before I have to be at my pottery class this evening. But we'll see. 
> 
> I hope you're still enjoying this. I know I am.
> 
> I'm thinking I may create a Spotify playlist for this fic...I hear each chapter (mostly) as a song once I finish it and that song ends up being the lyrics preceding the chapter. If you're interested, let me know. It's the work of a moment.


	12. Chapter 12

You've got that kind of look in your eyes  
As if no one knows anything but us

**Tenerife Sea – Ed Sheeran**

Ilsa greeted Robin and Cormoran as they arrived at the Herbert’s home with her customary hugs and kisses. Though she’d just seen them earlier in the week when they’d joined her and Nick for takeaway curry she sensed immediately that something was different about them tonight. They’d been their usual selves that Tuesday, as they’d eaten curry and naan and while they’d shared details of the current cases they were working, never using actual names, and almost certainly exaggerating the more hilarious portions of the stories.

Tonight though, the undercurrent that she usually sensed running between them was much more pronounced. Though they weren’t acting differently, there was something going on. She resolved to pay close attention to them the whole night.

“This is for you, from both of us,” Robin said as she handed Ilsa the gift she and Cormoran had agreed Ilsa would love.

Ilsa accepted the beautifully wrapped gift, “You really have to teach me how to wrap like this Robin. I’m a hopeless mess.”

“Yeah, she always has to resort to gift bags. Poor dear.” Nick teased as he joined them in the hall, hugging Robin and planting a kiss on her cheek, before nudging Cormoran with a shoulder to bring him in on the joke, “Eh, Oggy?”

“Well there went all my hopes for a second job as a professional gift wrapper at John Lewis.” The sarcasm in Ilsa’s voice was tempered with a giggle. “Come on through. Quite a few of the other guests have arrived already. Corm, go grab a beer, I’m going to introduce Robin around.” And with that, Ilsa looped her arm through Robin’s and headed into the lounge.

Nick led Cormoran through to the kitchen, chatting about Arsenal’s chances against Chelsea in the match they were both looking forward to watching the next afternoon.

As Ilsa introduced Robin to one of her junior partners, lovely young man named Rahul, she kept an eye on Cormoran. She watched as he retrieved a beer for himself, still chatting with Nick, and moved to the counter where the wine bottles had been placed. As he laughed at something Nick said he picked up a bottle of white, selected a glass from the sideboard and poured a generous portion.

At the same time, Ilsa was aware that while Robin was giving every appearance of paying attention to the conversation with Rahul, she also seemed to be tracking where her partner was.

This wasn’t unusual. Ilsa had seen this many times before. They always seemed to know where each other was in the midst of a crowd. Of course, it was easier for Robin to find Cormoran, with him towering over most people. But Cormoran never seemed to lose track of Robin, even when he had his back to her, he always seemed able to sense her movements, finding her immediately when she was within range of his eyes.

Someone hailed Nick from across the room, pulling him away from his conversation with Cormoran, which allowed Cormoran to wind through the crowd toward Robin and Ilsa, who had been joined by another young lawyer, this one blonde and tall and plainly interested in finding out more about Robin.

As Cormoran arrived at their group Robin immediately made room to include him, again, not unusual, she’d have done that for anyone, but Ilsa resolved to continue to keep a close eye on them. She was sure there was something going on.

As Cormoran joined the small group surrounding Robin he nodded acknowledgment to the two gentlemen Ilsa introduced. He was careful not to stand too close to Robin, even though all he wanted was to make it clear to everyone in this room, but most especially to the tall, blonde haired John, who he feared was about to start drooling as he continued to ogle Robin, that she was his. He ached to smooth his hand down her back. To wind his arm around her waist. To press a kiss to her temple.

He settled for passing her the wine he’d poured for her and ensuring that his fingers brushed hers in a hidden caress.

While they’d not discussed it, it seemed to have become an unspoken agreement that they would not exactly hide the change in their relationship, but they wouldn’t also be explicit with it. It was clear after the afternoon they’d spent swapping stories about Ilsa’s matchmaking, that nothing would have pleased their friend more than to see them finally together, but it seemed neither of them was ready to make this change public knowledge.

Rather, judging from the glint of mischief he’d glimpsed in Robin’s eyes as she’d glanced up at him a moment ago, and the excited, yet restrained, tension radiating from Ilsa, it seemed that his partner had made the decision to torment the poor woman. With a mental shrug he decided he was more than willing to play along. As he caught Robin’s eye again, he tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement of the game and was rewarded with the slight tilt of her lips indicating the game was on.

As the evening’s festivities hummed along, Cormoran spent much of his time giving the appearance of paying attention to the conversations carrying on around him while simultaneously doing his part to keep Ilsa on tenterhooks. It was comical watching her track every glance and movement between him and Robin.

They were currently seated in a conversation group, Robin next to him on the sofa he’d napped on countless times. One of the other guests asked him a question that he’d not quite been able to hear over the din of other conversations going on around them. He held up a finger to signal he hadn’t heard the question, and very carefully leaned forward and across Robin, resulting in the side of his arm brushing very gently along the side of her breast. He felt the swift exhalation this action elicited as it fluttered past his ear but noted, peripherally, that Robin was as poker faced as ever.

No one looking at her would know how aroused she was by that small contact. And certainly no one would realize that there was a very subtle, yet blindingly sexy, bit of foreplay going on under their very noses.

Robin was enjoying this game they’d silently agreed to play enormously. Especially since it had the wonderful side benefit of allowing every brush of their bodies against each other to ratchet up their arousal. Every glance between them that evening had been charged with a passionate awareness, and yet their behavior toward each other was no different, outwardly, then it ever had been.

Only their thoughts had changed.

This mutual sharing of desire and anticipation was intoxicating. The connection she and Cormoran had always seemed to share had only expanded through the course of the evening. It seemed as though the ability they’d always had to “read” each other’s minds were amplified.

The slight shift of his arm against the side of her breast just now had sent a frisson of heat arrowing to her stomach and she waited for her opportunity to respond in kind.

As she watched the conversation between him and the other guest she noted the way his black hair was curling along the back of his neck and she ached to wind those curls around her fingers. He was wearing a blue jumper this evening, paired with jeans in a dark denim wash and matte black, scuffed, rounded toe boots. The clothing, combined with his ruggedness, and tousled hair gave him the air of a workingman, and it struck her once again, how very different he was from the polished and urbane Matthews and Johns of the world.

Cormoran was rough around the edges. He’d always had the look of a brawler and a general air of intimidation about him. When he entered a room it was very clear, immediately that he was recognized by everyone within that this was an Alpha male. It should have been intimidating to her, but somehow it never had been.

Rather, she had seen past the aura of intimidation and standoffishness almost immediately upon meeting him. She’d been privileged to have seen a different Cormoran. One who was kind and considerate. One who took upon him the burdens of those less fortunate than himself. It was not unusual for him to decide to take a case without charging someone. It didn’t happen often, but he wasn’t the type of person to turn away someone truly in need, not when he had the ability to help get them justice. Leonora Quine still sent Christmas cards filled with Orlando’s art, and Robin always enjoyed seeing Cormoran’s face soften as he read the note and viewed the brightly colored drawings.

He was such a wonderful man. And finally she knew he was hers.

“Would you mind helping me Robin?” She jolted slightly at the sound of her name from Ilsa.

“I’m so sorry, my mind went off on a wander. What did I miss?” She glanced up at Ilsa, only now realizing her eyes had been fixed on her partner’s hand and forearm, where he’d pulled the sleeves of his jumper up. She knew now that the whorls of hair there were soft, comforting against her skin.

She suppressed a sigh of longing.

“Could you help me replenish the nibbles? I’ve just noticed they’re running a bit low.” Ilsa indicated the trays on the coffee table holding chips and nuts and sweets.

“Oh, of course.” She set her empty wine glass down on the table and made to stand, allowing her calf to slide along Cormoran’s as she did so. She thought she caught the sound of a slight groan as she bent, just a little, to pick up the bowl and tray Ilsa had indicted from the table. As she turned toward the kitchen Cormoran’s blue eyes snagged on hers, what was in that glance caused her heart to flutter and race.

She looked over to the clock on the mantle as she followed Ilsa from the room, noting that there were only two hours left until people would likely begin to head out for the night.

Two hours was an eternity.

Ilsa had made it into the kitchen ahead of Robin and she waited impatiently for Robin to join her. She was ready to burst with eagerness to finally have an opportunity to corner Robin and finally get some answers.

Robin swung around the corner into the kitchen and set the bowl and tray she’d carried with her in the counter, before reaching for the large bag of crisps to refill the bowl. “Party’s going well, yeah?”

“It is! What’s going on with you and Cormoran?” Ilsa couldn’t prevent herself from blurting.

Robin’s head whipped around, “What?!” Her eyes wide with shock. “What do you mean?”

“Something’s different between you two tonight. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is just a little different.” Ilsa’s eyes narrowed suspiciously on Robin’s face. “You’re both…” She grasped for the right word. “Different.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about Ils. Nothing’s happened.” Robin’s eyes were innocently wide.

“Hmmm. Are you sure?”

“Ilsa, honestly,” Robin started with mock impatience. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Nothing is different. Nothing has changed. Now, pass me the chocolate and let me top this up.”

Ilsa handed over the packet of chocolate covered raisins but was still looking at Robin contemplatively. She was sure something was going on. She was a lawyer. She was good at picking up subtleties.

Maybe it was time to bring Nick in on this.

Robin blew out a carefully measured breath as she exited the kitchen with the now full snack tray and bowl. She glanced up just in time to avoid a collision with Cormoran as he came along the hallway, carrying an empty beer bottle and her empty wine glass.

“Oh,” she gasped as she came to a stop. “Careful.” She smiled up at him, wondering if he had planned to come and rescue her from the interrogation he’d have known she’d been receiving. He smiled back and answered her unspoken question with his eyes.

“Just thought I’d grab another beer. D’you want another glass?” He held up the wine glass in his left hand.

“Sure. Thanks.” She held his eyes with hers as they passed each other.

Two hours.

Cormoran entered the kitchen to find Ilsa and Nick whispering to each other. “Hi! Mind if I grab another beer?” He deliberately pitched his voice to startle them. He barely contained his laughter when Ilsa jump and accidentally trod on Nick’s foot.

“Uh…sure. Sure Corm, of course. You know where they are.” She pointed to the refrigerator.

He stepped over and selected a bottle, popping it open and taking a long drink, while watching his two friends. “Everything OK?”

“Course it is, Oggy!”

“Absolutely!”

“Good.” He drew the word out. “Is there any more of that white wine Robin likes? I poured the last of it for the lady in the bright pink jacket and Robin asked me as I passed her just now if I’d mind getting her more.” He glanced around the kitchen.

“Um. I’m not sure. Let me take a look. I’ll bring it out.” Ilsa clearly didn’t want him to linger.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I can wait.” Tormenting her was so easy.

“Nick, did you hear that git in the other room talking about the match tomorrow. He’s wagering Arsenal will go down by four.” It was clear to Cormoran that Ilsa was trying to enlist Nick’s help. He wasn’t going to make it easy on her.

Nick was affronted, “Who was?”

“I think his name was John.”

“Oh yeah, he’s a tosser.” Nick glanced at Ilsa before going on, “Ilsa was all set to try introducing him to Robin, thinking maybe Robin might be interested.”

Cormoran lifted his brows at Ilsa.

“Well the divorce is final. It’s time for her to get back on the horse.” Ilsa picked up the ball Nick had lobbed and kicked it at Cormoran’s head.

He smiled at her. “What a good friend you are.” He reached his hand out to take the bottle of wine she’d just pulled from the cooler.

He turned his back to set Robin’s glass on the counter and set about opening the wine. Waiting. Patiently.

“Why haven’t you made a move yet Cormoran?” Ilsa came alongside him, laying a hand on his arm. “I know you’re mad for her. Why won’t you act on it?”

“We’ve been through this Ils. She’s my partner. It wouldn’t be right.” He smiled down at his oldest friend, bent to kiss her forehead. She really was the sweetest person.

She’d adored Robin from the moment she’d met her and sensed immediately that his feelings for his partner were more than professional. She’d done everything she could to support Robin during her divorce, giving her a safe place to stay after Robin had left Matthew, helping her find a room with her actor friend, Paul, and most recently, helping Robin convince Cormoran to become her roommate. She was kinder than most of the people in his life and dearer to him than most of his family.

“Oh Corm…” She sighed, sounding genuinely dejected.

“Cheer up Ils. John seems like a nice guy.” He picked up his beer and Robin’s glass and left Ilsa standing at the counter.

As he reentered the gathering Robin glanced up at him and immediately stepped around the guests now seated on the sofa and met Cormoran in the middle of the room.

Understanding exactly what was about to happen, she raised her chin just has he dipped his head.

And they heard a glass shatter and an excited squeal, “NICK!!!! LOOOOK!”

Cormoran chuckled against her lips as he ended the kiss. He handed her the wine he’d poured for her, then turned as he finally wrapped his arm around Robin’s waist where he’d been aching to put it all night.

He grinned across the room, feeling Robin’s head tip to lean against his shoulder, as a shocked Nick supported a tearfully laughing Ilsa.

They’d just given Ilsa the best gift she could have dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a little late today. I was having some computer issues and kept getting interrupted by my little one. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know Ilsa did.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. ;)

“I can’t pull you closer than this.  
It’s just you and the moon on my skin.”

**Eavesdrop – The Civil Wars**

As he unlocked the door to the flat and stepped aside to allow Robin to go ahead of him, Cormoran smiled at the thought of Ilsa’s face, radiating complete joy as she realized that what she had been hoping and praying for had finally happened. He and Robin had immediately been set upon by both Nick and Ilsa, leaving their other guests confused about what exactly was going on as they stood watching the usually calm and collected Ilsa burying Robin and Strike in hugs and kisses and exclamations ranging from “Hallelujah!” to “I thought it was _never_ going to happen!” It didn’t take long for everyone to catch on though, and soon they were being congratulated. He had a feeling many people thought they’d just broken the news of an engagement, and neither he or Robin had taken any pains to correct that notion.

They’d stayed with the Herbert’s as the party had started to break up, he and Nick helping to clear the empties away and Robin and Ilsa setting the kitchen and lounge to rights, and he’d listened as Robin filled their friends in, leaving out the more intimate details and her panic attack, of how this had finally come about.

Nick had been less verbose but no less delighted. “It’s about time, mate. It’s about time,” he’d chuckled as he’d chucked another beer bottle in the bin. “I was ready to start passing notes like we were still in school.”

Cormoran had enjoyed watching the flush come and go along Robin’s fair skin as she answered Ilsa’s questions. He couldn’t help but wonder if the skin he wasn’t able to see was flushing as well.

He was wondering a lot of things about Robin’s body. The only thing new about that was he now knew he’d eventually get to discover those things. His fingers had tingled with anticipation.

As he helped Robin out of her coat in the hallway, he leaned to brush a soft kiss to the side of her neck. “How about a cup of tea?”

Robin reached her hand up to caress his cheek. “I’ll go put the kettle on.”

He hung both of their coats and scarves and followed her through to the kitchen. She’d already switched the kettle on and was preparing their mugs, dropping the teabags in. He leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette.

He’d always enjoyed watching her make their tea. Her elegance and economy of motion were endlessly fascinating to him. There were very few wasted movements in her process. Her mind worked just as efficiently in this simple routine as it did when typing up her notes, building a case book or working out the details of a surveillance plan.

She finished and passed his mug to him with a smile, followed by a wide yawn.

“Sorry,” she said from behind the hand she used to stifle the yawn. “All the excitement today has worn me out.”

“Understandable. It’s been a long day.” He sipped his tea and wondered how to go about asking her if she’d sleep in his bed tonight. He wasn’t expecting anything more than sleep from her, but he wanted to hold her.

She took a last sip of her tea and rinsed her mug, turning it upside down in the dish drainer. “I’m going to go brush my teeth and get ready for bed. I’ll meet you in your room?”

“Uh, sure…If that’s what you want.” This ability of hers to anticipate his needs was occasionally disconcerting.

She smiled, “It is,” and glided away, leaving only anticipation and the scent of her perfume behind.

He followed her example, washing his mug and setting it to drain, emptying the ashtray he’d just used into the bin, and then turned toward his bedroom.

As he went about his routine he pictured her following hers. He wondered if he’d find it as alluring as everything else about her.

He’d just slid under his duvet and reached for the book he kept on his nightstand, when he heard her gentle knock against the door jamb. She was wearing a large grey t-shirt, her legs bare, her hair falling around her shoulders, face scrubbed clean. She looked soft and incredibly sexy. And not at all self-conscious.

He laid the book in his lap and grinned at her. She took that as the invitation he’d meant it to be and swiftly climbed in next to him and snuggled into his side. She reached over and flipped the book around so that she could read the cover. “Terry Pratchett. Not what I would have expected.” She grinned up at him, clearly amused by his reading material.

He shrugged. “He’s funny. Very clever.”

“I think I’ve learned more about you today than I’ve learned in the last two years.” She slid her hand through the hair dusting his chest, before resting it above his heart. She pillowed her head on his shoulder.

“How do we do this Cormoran?”

He angled his head down to glance at her face, her cheek was still pressed to his shoulder. She’d started to gently stroke his chest with the hand still pressed there. He hoped the movement would prevent her from being able to feel how fast his heart had just started racing.

“This being?” He inquired gently, though he thought he knew what she was talking about.

“I want to be with you,” she whispered.

He eased her up so that he could look into her eyes, awash with desire in the moonlight filtering through his windows, as he said, “I want nothing as much as I want that. But I also don’t want to fuck this up with you. I want to do this, you and me, right. I want to take my time with you. I don’t want to rush anything.” He took her hand, rubbing his thumb into her palm in a massaging caress.

“I want this to be your choice. I want anything you want. And I want you, so much. But I want you to be sure you’re ready, because once ‘this’ does happen, I won’t be able to let you go.”

Her eyes lowered to his mouth as eased herself into his lap. Her thighs on either side of his waist and her bottom pressing against his thighs, his hands settled against her hips. Holding her there? Preventing her from moving closer? He wasn’t sure. He just knew things were about to change.

She lowered her lips to his ear, holding there for a moment, and he caught his breath at the feel of her lips brushing softly against the shell of his ear as she whispered, “I’m ready.”

She knew those two words were about to change everything and her heart which had started pounding the moment she’d spoken raced on harder and harder. Neither of them had moved in the few seconds since she’d made her feelings clear. The air hardly moved between them. She stayed just as she was. Waiting. Her lips at his ear.

Finally, his hands slid slowly up her back, under the t-shirt, his thumbs pressing along either side of her torso as they smoothed back down. As he reached her hips again his left hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her tighter against him, as his left slid back up to press between her shoulder blades, pressing her breasts to his chest, the thin t-shirt the only barrier between them.

She wanted that barrier gone.

As she started to life the hem, preparing to remove that final barrier, he stopped her with a whisper as he pressed a soft kiss to her neck.

“Wait.”

She practically growled, “I don’t want to wait.”

“Shh.” Another kiss, this time behind the hinge of her jaw, just under her ear.

His hands were still on her waist and back and she wondered how he could be so calm. Though is eyes were glowing bluer than she’d ever seen them. Passion lit.

“Please, Cormoran.”

“Patience Ellacott.”

Somehow the use of her last name, after he’d spent the day calling her Robin, caused her body to go up in flame. She was hot everywhere. Her body aching for him. Her breasts swelling, nipples tightening. Her skin flushing. Her damn t-shirt felt like a parka.

His mouth was roaming across her cheek, scattering kisses across the flushed cheekbones, pressing to the tip of her nose. Her eyelids. The space between her eyebrows, smoothing the wrinkles of frustration his dawdling was causing.

A soft kiss against her temple. His beard gently rasping against her cheek as he reached the other side of her jaw and repeated the kisses he’d pressed to the other side of her neck. He whispered her name as he went, “Robin. My Robin.”

Her head dropped back in complete surrender.

Only then did he allow his hands to caress her, moving the t-shirt slowly upward until he finally removed it. Her hair spilled down her back and he tangled his fingers in it as he claimed her mouth in a kiss more searing, more passionate than any of the kisses they’d shared that morning in the hallway.

He groaned as she slid her right hand into his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp. She smoothed her left hand down his neck as he continued to kiss her ravenously.

She bowed back, breaking the kiss, but encouraging him to explore further. His lips sliding down her neck to nibble her collarbones as his hands coasted up her ribs, but instead of stopping just below her breasts, this time he allowed his thumbs to graze the sides, eliciting a shiver. He pulled back to watch as her nipples hardened even further. Then brushed his thumbs against them.

Her breath stopped. How could something so simple, such a small caress cause her to almost come unglued?

Cormoran chuckled at her reaction. “Sensitive?”

She could only moan deep in her throat. Words escaping her.

Her responses were so open. So giving. She held nothing back. There was no shyness. No hesitation. She was like a bundle of dynamite in his arms.

The fuse already lit.

The explosion promising to be spectacular.

He pushed her further, rolling her to her back so that he had greater access to her body. Allowing his hands to roam. He clasped one of her breasts in his hand, rolling the nipple as his other hand traced the smooth curve of her hip, the arch of her hipbone and down her thigh as she bent her knee and braced her foot on the bed.

He kept his touch light. His eyes roaming where his hands were touching. Following the curve of her breasts as he absorbed the feel of that soft skin under his palms. He bent his head to taste her.

Her gasp of pleasure mingled with his groan.

His other hand swept to the white cotton panties he’d found adorably arousing when he’d first caught a glimpse of them. They weren’t anything but in his way now.

She arched her back to allow him to tug them away. Pressing her body into him. The only barrier remaining were his boxers, and they were staying put until he got himself under control.

Both of her hands were now buried in his hair as he continued to lavish kisses along her chest, nipping a nipple sweetly between his teeth, licking the valley between, sucking, gently biting, and reveling in the goosebumps rising on her as he explored this woman he’d craved for so long.

“Oh. Please Cormoran, please…” She trailed off on an almost screaming cry as his hand barely brushed against the heat of her center. Her hips swiveled, searching for more of that feeling.

“Shhh. Shh. Sweet…You’re so sweet.” He couldn’t help but soothe her. Her fevered responses were burning his own fuse hotter than he’d intended.

He slid up her body to press his lips to hers, just as he allowed his fingers to sink into her warmth. One hand now buried in her hair as the other felt the muscles of her core clamping tightly around him. Her head fell back into his hand and he rained kisses down her neck, across her sternum, down her stomach, feeling those muscles clench against his lips, even as her core clenched even tighter on his hand.

He ground his throbbing cock into the bed, hoping the pain of that pressure would help him keep it together, as he reached her smooth pelvis. He removed his hand, resulting in a whisper and a scissoring of her legs. Her head tossed on the bed, as she begged him for something she couldn’t seem to name.

As he kissed his way across her body to a hip bone, her hips strained against him. His hands parted her thighs, sliding down to grasp the backs of her knees as his mouth trailed even lower. He whispered her name against her inner thigh. A prayer.

Her legs trembled as he lowered his head to her center and feasted.

A lick up the center.

A swirl around the sensitive grouping of nerves just above where he wanted to be most.

He gently sucked.

She screamed his name on a groan as her fingers clenched in his hair. Tugging him up to her, desperate for him to fill her.

As he raised himself above her, her hands pushed at his boxers, freeing him, then grasped him in her soft fingers. It was his turn to tremble. Her hand clenching around him almost causing him to lose himself.

“Now…Now Cormoran. Now.” She insisted.

And he couldn’t stop his hips as they pushed forward, sliding him into the one place he’d never allowed himself to think he’d ever be.

Her hips pistoned immediately and he struggled to hold himself together as he matched the rhythm she’d demanded.

Finally, he allowed himself to surrender to the desire she’d kindled the moment she’d whispered into his ear.

Bracing his weight on his hands, so that he could watch her face as she climaxed, he shouted her name and collapsed, burned to ashes in the final explosion of dynamite that was his Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry I don't have more than one chapter for you today, but this week is insanely busy and I struggled with getting interrupted and then having to find my way back to them. 
> 
> I hope this was worth the wait.


	14. Chapter 14

Oh, I wish I’d never ever seen your face  
I wish you were the one  
Wish you were the one that got away

**The One That Got Away – The Civil Wars**

Cormoran woke one morning a few weeks later, opening his eyes to see the now familiar sight of Robin’s bright hair trailing over what had become her pillow. They’d fallen into a routine of sleeping in his room, Robin’s quiet way of ensuring that he was closer to the things that he might need, though as usual she said very little about it. Her natural inclination to accommodate his disability, without a word spoken about it, was one of the things he cherished about her.

Her presence was so restful that once he had asked her, during a quiet conversation after one of their more passionate interludes, his head pillowed on her chest, her fingers curling his hair around each other, why his missing leg wasn’t an issue to her.

To Charlotte the loss of his leg had been something to pity, to eventually hold over his head. “Don’t forget who was there for you when you needed it most Bluey,” she’d warn him during the rows she’d instigated. While at other times she’d cry over his loss, asking him how he could bear it. Never thinking about how it sounded to him, how it made him feel to know that she mourned his leg almost more than he did, not because she knew it made things harder for him but because, he suspected, she didn’t see him as a whole man.

Other women had found it a curiosity, those women were even more difficult to understand. Turned on by a piece of him that was missing.

But not Robin. Robin never made an issue out of it, but instead asked questions when needed, provided support when he was in pain, ensured that he had the side of bed closest to the loo, the room closest to the rest of the flat, and was able, after the two years spent around him, to gauge his level of pain and would often bring him either a heating pad or an ice pack unasked and unremarked upon. Simply like it was a cup of tea.

Robin’s fingers had stilled in his hair as she gave him the simple answer to his question. “I never knew you with it.” Which made so much sense. She’d continued, “I met the Cormoran who had learned to live without it. The Cormoran who refused to let a missing foot prevent him from kicking life’s arse.”

Was it any wonder he adored her?

Now, as he sat up, careful not to disturb her, slid on his prosthesis and went about his morning routine, he thought ahead to the day she was about to embark on. She was still tailing Bleacher, who still had not gone to her hair salon, despite almost six weeks of Robin tailing her. He knew Robin was well past impatient with this, but he also knew that her impatience wouldn’t prevent her from following through.

With that in mind, he wandered out to the kitchen to start the tea he knew she’d require before she’d feel fully herself.

He switched on the news and started the kettle, pulling their mugs from their hooks under the cupboards and readying them to be poured. He smiled as he heard her sleepily shuffle leaving his room, followed by the shower starting down the hall. Though they had spent every night together since their relationship had taken this turn, she’d not yet moved any of her things to her room. He’d expected her to, but the more he thought about it, the more he understood that Robin’s inherent respect for his privacy would preclude her doing that uninvited.

He smiled as he realized he wanted to issue the invitation.

He pulled out one of the cinnamon raisin bagels she was fond of, as he heard the shower stop, and popped it in the toaster, before pulling the container of cream cheese out and setting it in front of the chair he knew she habitually occupied.

He set her mug and the plate with her bagel on it in front of her chair before leaning back against the counter opposite and lighting a cigarette to await her appearance.

She strolled in wearing skinny blue jeans and white trainers topped by a white V-necked t-shirt a few minutes later. Her hair was hidden under a brunette wig, her eyebrows darkened to better blend with the color of her fake hair, her makeup slightly heavier than usual. Those silvery blue eyes accentuated by the darker hair and the generous mascara she’d used on her usually pale lashes. He enjoyed this Robin. The one who loved disguises. And he couldn’t wait to hear the reason for this one.

“Morning!” She leaned against him long enough to kiss his cheek before sliding into her chair and taking her first sip of tea. “Thank for this.”

“The least I could do, but you’d better hurry before my partner comes home and finds a strange woman ogling her fella.”

She snorted a laugh. “Funny.” A pause for another sip of tea. “I’ve decided today is the day. I am _getting_ the name of her salon and stylist.” Her eyes sparked with blue grey fire.

He couldn’t help it that he found that arousing. He was a man after all.

“Please do elaborate.” He waved her on as he crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and reached for his own tea, and then picked up the untouched half of her bagel and took a healthy bite, ignoring her smirk.

“Well, I’ve tried tailing her and I’ve gotten nothing. I’ve looked at her credit card statements and found nothing. At this point I think the only way for me to make this happen without tearing out my own hair in frustration is going to be to befriend her.”

“Interesting choice.”

“I thought so too. I figure the reason she won’t say where she goes to get her highlights done is out of a sense of competition. She doesn’t want her friend to one up her. But hopefully she won’t feel that way with a stranger who compliments her hair and asks who she goes to.” She shrugged and took a bite of her half of their now, shared, bagel.

“I’m honestly surprised I didn’t think of it before. But I blame you.”

“Me? How is this my fault?” He was taken aback.

“Well, if you hadn’t distracted me these last few weeks with your body I’d have been thinking clearer. It’s not my fault you’re so devastatingly attractive that I can’t hold a thought in my head.” Her smile was so hot he should have had steam coming off him.

God but she was perfection.

He kept his eyes trained on hers, allowing her to see the craving she’d just sparked in him, as he leaned forward and said, “I’ll try to rein it in.”

“Yes. Please do,” she retorted smartly before snickering. She slid down from the chair carrying the plate and knife, placed them both in the sink and then turned to wind her arms around him. Laying her head on his back and sighing. “What’re you doing today?”

He stayed as he was, allowing her to rest against him and absorbing the feel of her small frame against him. He never tired of her affectionate nature. Now that the barriers had come down he was being treated to the experience of hugs and kisses and touches. He’d never really been physically demonstrative before, but Robin was changing that. Her hand in his as they walked to The Priory in the evenings was comforting. His hand on her thigh, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her shoulders, swift kisses; These gestures were commonplace to him now. He couldn’t imagine being near her and not wanting to touch her. And it seemed she felt the same way.

“I’m heading into the office as soon as you scamper off. I have to meet with Barclay and Hutchins about the two cases they’re on and I have quite a lot more paperwork to finish up on The Return of Mad Dad.” He shook his head over that one. Mad Dad had started his stalking again, and this time their client was hoping to get his parental rights revoked.

He finally turned and enclosed her in his arms. “You’ll let me know if your new gambit works?” He didn’t see how anyone could refuse Robin anything, but then he was a little biased.

“As soon as. Hopefully I’ll have it all in the bag and can meet you back at the office for lunch.” She ended with a swift kiss to the tip of his nose. He tightened his hold slightly before letting her ease out of his arms and head toward the door with a “See ya!”

Around midday he’d still not heard from Robin, and so, after his meetings with Barclay and Hutchins, both of whom were making great progress on their cases and had hopes to close them within the week, he settled into the paperwork piling up on his desk. Having subcontractors made things easier on him and Robin, but the paperwork was torture. Robin tried to handle most of it, but Bleacher had been monopolizing her time and he’d procrastinated long enough.

After making himself a cup of tea and a plate of the biscuits Robin had stashed in a cupboard for him, he settled in and mentally prepared himself for the tedium.

He’d cleared half of the stack requiring his attention when his phone rang. Hoping it was Robin calling to crow about her success he snatched it up only to find it was Detective Inspector Eric Wardle from the Met. Wardle was one of their firm contacts at the Met and it wasn’t unknown for him to call and get an consult on a case he may be working. He and Cormoran had struck up a bit of a friendship after the Lula Landry case and it had been mutually advantageous.

Cormoran answered the phone, “What’s up?”

“Hey Gooner, is your partner with you?”

“Robin? No. She’s on surveillance. Why?” His nerves started to jangle with unease.

“I’ve got someone down here at the station insisting I contact her. He says he’ll speak to Robin and only Robin. I’ve been calling her for about an hour now, getting no answer.”

“Like I said, she’s tailing a mark today. I haven’t heard from her since I saw her this morning.” Wardle knew he and Robin had rented a flat together. However, the change in their sleeping arrangements hadn’t yet become public knowledge, and they’d left it that way. Especially in their professional lives. “Who do you have Eric? Who’s asking for Robin?”

“He was involved in a possible homicide early this morning, around three. His name’s Matthew Cunliffe.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic Attack

Let's be clear, I won't close my eyes  
And I know that I can survive  
I walked through fire to save my life

**Elastic Heart - Sia**

Robin was flushed with excitement as she dashed up the stairs from her Tube stop and dug through the contents of her designer handbag looking for her phone. She’d just gotten off a train where she’d seated herself across from Bleacher. Thanks to a bloke who refused to take no for an answer, Bleacher had spoken up in Robin’s defense and Robin had not been ashamed to accept the help. Bonded against the blokes of the world the two had fallen into conversation and Robin now had a business card and stylist name to a very fashionable salon in Dalston. The client would be as pleased as Robin was.

Finally locating her phone Robin immediately dialed Cormoran, who answered on the second ring. His tone was clearly agitated. “Ellacott? Where are you?”

“Just got off the Tube in Euston, heading into the office. What’s going on?” She turned from the station entrance and started the short walk to their new office building.

“Wardle called about an hour ago, said he’s been trying to reach you for a few hours now. Did you not see his calls?”

“I didn’t. I just finished with Bleacher and called you immediately. I didn’t really look at my phone.” She swallowed the sick feeling in her throat. “What’s wrong Cormoran? What’s going on?”

She couldn’t imagine a situation where Eric Wardle would choose to call her instead of Cormoran first. Not that Wardle wasn’t friendly toward her, just that he and Cormoran had the more established relationship. If he’d needed help with a case, he’d have called Cormoran first.

“Listen, Eric and I are in a car heading to pick you up. Go straight to the office and stay there. I’ll be there shortly. Ok?”

Though she answered in the affirmative Robin was now thoroughly unnerved. It wasn’t like Cormoran to keep things from her. “Cormoran, can you tell me what this is about? Did something happen?”

“Yes. Something’s happened. But I’d rather be with you when you hear the details. OK?”

“Is someone hurt?” She could hear the panic rising in her voice. “Mom? Dad? Lucy?”

“No. No. Everyone is fine. No one’s hurt. Make a cup of tea and I’ll be there as quick as I can. OK?” He was trying to comfort her but all she could feel was anxiety. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t think of what it might be.

“OK.” She paused. “Cormoran?”

“Robin. Take a deep breath. I’ll be there soon.” He disconnected.

And she was suddenly awash in fear. As she entered the office building and called for the lift she pulled up a text to Ilsa.

_Hey. Are you OK?_

She got an immediate response.

_Yes. I’m completely fine. I’m on my way to the Met to meet you and Corm. Be there soon. Don’t worry._

If Ilsa was involved it had to be serious. If she was coming to The Met, it wasn’t for fun. It was in capacity as their lawyer on retainer. Robin’s panic doubled.

_I don’t know what’s happening. What’s going on Ilsa?_

Again, an immediate response.

_Corm will be there soon. He’ll explain everything with Wardle._

Robin tucked her phone in her pocket and unlocked the office. She tossed her coat and bag on the receptionist’s desk before walking to the kitchen and flicking on the kettle.

As she waited for the kettle to heat she quickly toured through the office, looking for anything out of place. Her office was as neat as a pin, the way she’d left it.

Cormoran’s, on the other hand, looked as though he’d dashed out in a hurry. Case files open across his desk. Notes strewn about haphazardly. She sat down in his chair and glanced through the notes on his desk, looking for anything that might give her a clue about what was happening. But there was nothing apart from the notes on Mad Dad he’d been adding to the case file.

She walked back into the kitchen and started the process of making tea.

Get mug.

Put tea bag in mug.

Pour water.

The process that usually soothed her nerves was doing nothing to help the continuing rise of pressure in her chest. She could feel the panic attack coming and was unable to calm herself enough to stop it or even slow it.

She sank to the floor and pressed herself into the corner, wedging and anchoring herself firmly against the wall and the cupboard. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap as she rhythmically flexed each finger, as though counting. Her head was bowed, her strawberry hair covering her face, shutting out the view of the kitchen, providing her a curtain from behind which she could close her eyes and concentrate on breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

She focused on the feel of the floor below the backs of her thighs. She movements of her fingers. The complete silence of the office.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she heard the office door being unlocked and the heavy tread of her partner entering the room.

He must have seen her and understood immediately what state she was in because she heard him, as though through a tunnel, asking Wardle to stay in the reception area for a moment.

Then he was next to her. His back slid down the wall beside her and his hand covered the still flexing fingers in her lap. And he waited. The side of his thigh pressed tightly to hers. His big hand covering both of hers. His breaths matching the breaths she was forcing herself to take. She could smell him with every breath she took. He gave her something new to focus on. The smell of home and comfort. Warmth.

Slowly, so slowly, her heartbeat returned to normal and she lifted her head. Trembling easing. Tears coursing down her cheeks.

His eyes were so gentle as he asked, “You OK?” He used his thumb to wipe away the moisture on her cheeks.

She nodded.

“I should have realized it was a bad idea to leave you hanging. I’m sorry for that. But I thought it would be better for me to be with you when you hear what we need to tell you. I didn’t want you to be alone.” His voice was full of concern and remorse. His other thumb smoothing the back of her hand as he leaned his head against hers, his hand still resting on her face.

She took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Really.” Though she belied those words by crawling into his lap to rest her head on his shoulder. She just needed a moment to be surrounded by him.

He obliged her and wrapped his arms tightly around her, his thumb now rubbing the base of her neck.

“Can you please tell me now. I think I’m going to need to hear it from you.” Robin knew that Wardle was waiting for them, but she also knew that whatever this was about was about to rock her foundations and she wanted to be prepared. The last thing she wanted was Wardle thinking she was weak.

Cormoran squeezed her tightly again, understanding what she was not saying, before taking a deep breath. “First, understand that I am in your corner, no matter how you want to handle this I will support you. You have all the power in this situation. OK?”

He seemed to need an answer, so she nodded, waited for him to go on.

“Matthew was arrested last night.” She gasped. This was the absolute last thing she’d have expected to hear. Her head snapped up and she was ready to jump to her feet, but Cormoran shushed her so he could go on.

“It appears that someone broke into the flat and attacked him. Matthew is claiming self-defense. The man who was killed was pushed out of the window on the second floor. He fell, and his skull was fractured. He died before the ambulance could get him to the hospital.”

“Is Matthew OK? Are they going to keep him? Is he under arrest?”

“Well.” He paused and lifted a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck before continuing. “Robin, the man he pushed, the man who he says broke into the flat…” He stopped again, as if he was unsure how to continue.

“Cormoran?” She could feel her anxiety rising again. This was not going to be good.

“It was Oliver Trewin.”

She felt faint. Even sitting as she was, in Cormoran’s lap she felt the world drop away from her. Her breathing hitched again, and her pulse sped up.

Cormoran’s hands were suddenly on her face. He was speaking but she couldn’t hear what he was saying through the roar of the blood pounding in her ears. She was gasping for air and trying to think but all she could see in front of her was a rubber gorilla mask. All she could feel were hands around her neck, choking off her air.

She was pulled forward, her face buried into the woolly neck of Cormoran’s red jumper. As she frantically tried to pull air into her lungs she caught a wisp of cigarette smoke, mixed with the subtle smell of his washing detergent. She stopped struggling, comprehending that she wasn’t back in that stairwell. But rather being held by her partner. “Breathe Robin. Breathe. I’ve got you. It’s not real.” Cormoran was whispering at her ear.

She threw her arms around him and buried her fingers in the dense curls at the back of his head as she sobbed against his neck. “I don’t understand. I…I…How? Cormoran…What?” She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought.

“We don’t know. We don’t know anything. Matthew is refusing to speak to Wardle, or me, or Vanessa.”

He gently pulled her back so that he could look into her eyes again.

“He’s refusing to speak to anyone but you.”

There was a tap on the door jamb behind them. Her head whipped around to find the lean, leather jacket clad form of Eric Wardle leaning against the jamb.

“Sorry to interrupt. Vanessa just texted to let me know that an Ilsa Herbert has arrived and is asking for you both. She’s got her in observation with her. Keeping an eye on Cunliffe.”

Cormoran nodded before looking at Robin again, “I called Ilsa when I couldn’t reach you. I figured you’d want her there with you when and if you decided to talk to Matthew?”

She nodded. Ilsa was exactly the right choice both for Robin’s comfort and for any legal questions.

Now that she was calming down she was starting to think a bit more clearly. She leaned against Cormoran again for a brief moment, before boosting herself out of his lap, taking the hand Wardle stepped over and extended to help her to her feet. Together they pulled Cormoran to his.

Cormoran immediately turned to her, ignoring Wardle, as he, once again, took her face in his hands and said, “Remember what I said. I’m here. No matter what. You are in control.” His eyes searched hers worriedly. She nodded again. He gathered her close, laying his cheek against the top of her head, as though to comfort himself as much as to comfort her, before pulling away with a brief kiss to her forehead.

Wardle was watching all of this very carefully and she knew they’d have some explaining to do. It would have to wait though.

“Eric?” He shifted his gaze from Cormoran to her immediately. “I’m assuming you’ll be willing to give us a ride to the station?”

Wardle nodded. She sighed deeply. “Let me just grab my things.” And steeling herself for what was coming, she walked out of the kitchen.

Wardle watched her leave the kitchen before turning to Cormoran, “Steel. That woman is made of steel.”

Cormoran nodded. Pleased to see someone else as in awe of her strength as he always was.

“How long’s this been going on then?” His finger moving back and forth between Cormoran and the door Robin had just walked out of. It wasn’t the right time for the discussion, but rather than put him off Cormoran just shrugged.

“It just sort of happened a while back.” In his mind, nothing more needed to be said. He was Robin’s, Robin was his. Until one of them decided differently. He knew it wouldn’t be him. Though with Matthew back in the picture he wasn’t too sure where Robin would end up.

He shook his head. _Worry about that later dumbass._

“Vanessa know?” Wardle asked.

“Don’t think so. I don’t really know. Robin hasn’t said. Listen, can we talk about this later.” He was impatient to get Robin in the car, to get this ordeal over with. He wanted her home, on their couch, tea in her hands, her head on his shoulder. He wanted her safe. He wanted the laughing Robin from this morning back.

“Sure. Sorry.” Wardle smiled at Robin as she reentered the room. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, not looking at Wardle, but at Cormoran. Her hand flexing at her side. He gathered himself and after motioning Wardle ahead of him, took that flexing hand and walked with her out of the office, to the lift.

As she pressed the button to call the lift she turned to Wardle. “Do I have to talk to him?”

“Absolutely not. You don’t have anything to do with any of this. Gooner here," he nodded to Cormoran. "Gave me your alibi when I called him, and I’ve got no reason to involve you in this, aside from the fact that he’s refusing to talk to anyone but you. We're hoping you might be able to convince him to start talking.”

She tilted her head. “If I refuse, what will happen?”

“Well, he’ll either have to start talking or stay with us. But any lawyer worth their legal briefs will tell him that he’s not doing himself any favors by keeping mum. We can’t verify his story if he doesn’t tell it.”

“Do I have to be by myself?” Her voice was steady, but Cormoran could hear the fear. He squeezed her hand as they got into the lift.

He exchanged a glance over her head with Wardle and then answered her himself, “I can go with you, or Wardle, or Vanessa. You don’t have to be alone with him.” He’d not realized she feared her ex-husband. Or was it just the situation?

Wardle nodded, to confirm Cormoran’s explanation and his quirked eyebrow indicated he’d picked up on the thread of fear as well. “Whichever of us doesn’t go into the room with you will be in observation. The minute you want out, you just stand up and we’ll open the door. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Robin nodded again.

They exited the building and climbed into the car with Wardle. Robin taking the front seat with Cormoran in the back.

As she put her seatbelt on Robin turned sideways in the seat so she could see both men and asked Wardle, “When was Trewin released?”

“From what I’ve been able to find out so far, he was released about six months ago. His sentence was almost up, and the prisons were crowding. He’d apparently been a model prisoner, and they felt he was rehabilitated well. So, they released him. He had to sign the sex offenders register and he was supposed to have had regular meetings with his probation officer, but that’s all I know right now.” He paused and then, “You should have been notified. Did you not get a letter or a call?”

“I didn’t. But I’ve moved around so much since I left Matthew that it’s not surprising.” She shook her head in consternation. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize his sentence was almost up.”

“Don’t know. Seems to me between divorcing Matthew, moving house three times, and working all the cases you’ve taken on, you definitely should have been able to remember everything.” Cormoran could hear the censure in his voice, along with the sarcasm. Robin took too much on, that was no secret, but he disliked the idea of her blaming herself for not being aware that her attacker had been set loose.

She glanced back at him with a small smile. Message received.

He laid his hand on her shoulder and she reached up to take it in hers. Her need for connection to him was palpable. He’d have plastered himself to her side if the car had had enough space. He hated the worry in her eyes. The lines between her brows indicating anxiety was still along for the ride.

He wanted to tell her to forget this. That Matthew was on his own. He wanted to stand in front of her and prevent her from walking into that station, into that room, and subjecting herself to whatever Matthew was going to throw at her.

But his relationship with her had been built on mutual respect. He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t appreciate him trying to “white knight” her. She’d get pissed that he was trying to protect her. That had been made clear to him the day she’d laughed while reminding him that she’d had self-defense courses, even as she’d sat on the bed, covered in her own blood after Laing had tried to kill her. His Robin was a force to be reckoned with.

No. She wouldn’t appreciate him trying to prevent her from facing Matthew.

His only option was to do what he’d promised her twice now. He could only be there and support her, no matter her choice. And it looked like she was going to choose to go into that room.

They pulled into a space at the station and Robin took a deep breath. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door. Cormoran was there immediately to take her hand. She smiled at this small gesture of unity. If there was anything she was sure of it was his steadfastness. He said he’d support her and she knew he meant it. One less thing to worry about, she thought to herself as they followed Wardle into the station.

They were offered coffee and tea, both declined.

“Can I see him before I go in?” She wanted to get a look at his body language. She’d learned throughout their relationship how to read Matthews signals. She was hoping she’d be able to get some idea of his state of mind before she entered the small room with him.

She wasn’t afraid of him physically harming her. She was more afraid of the power she feared he might still have over her emotions. In her sessions with her therapist she’d come to understand that he’d been manipulating her through most of their relationship. Gaslighting her, belittling her, chipping away at her self-esteem by small degrees. Making her so dependent on him that she’d not noticed her wants and needs being subsumed by him.

Until she’d met Cormoran.

Meeting Cormoran had reawakened the Robin she’d been as a young girl, before Matthew, before Trewin, before anything had hurt her, before her dreams had been shattered. Having him listen to her theories, even ask for and welcome them, had allowed her to reclaim something she now realized had not been taken by just Trewin, but by Matthew as well.

Cormoran had given her space and freedom and praise. He’d allowed her to wiggle herself into his agency and spread her investigators wings. His encouragement, training, advice and friendship had shifted the ground she’d thought was so stable under her feet.

And then when that ground had crumbled, he’d done more. He’d been a pillar of normalcy, allowing her to take on more work, burying herself in something she loved so that the splintering of her personal life didn’t hurt so bad. He’d opened his life up, allowing her to share Nick and Ilsa with him, sitting with her at the pub on those nights she was lonely and didn’t want to go home to be even more alone.

He’d never questioned her abilities. He’d never tried to stand in front of her, even though she could sense that he wanted to often. He was protective by nature, especially after what had happened to his mother. But he’d never used that as an excuse to stand in her way. He trusted her to know her limits instead of trying to set them for her.

Midway down the hallway, Wardle opened a door to a small room, containing the tall and elegant form of Vanessa Ekwenski and the slight bespectacled Ilsa, as well as a wide window looking into one of the drab interview rooms she’d been in multiple times through the course of investigations.

Ilsa immediately grabbed her in a hug, whispering, “Are you OK?” Robin could only nod as she returned the hug.

“Has he said anything?” Wardle directed to Vanessa.

“Nothing. He accepted a cup of tea and asked how much longer it would be before Robin got here. But other than that, nothing.” Vanessa’s eyes landed on Robin’s hand, still enclosed in Cormoran’s before lifting to meet Robin’s eyes. Robin nodded at the unspoken question and shrugged to indicate they’d discuss it later. Vanessa gave a brief nod. Before turning back to Wardle.

“I think we need to go in there together before we let Robin in. Let her settle in a bit and see how he’s responding to us?” She encompassed the group with the question.

“I’d appreciate that. It’ll give me a chance to regroup with Cormoran and Ilsa as well.” She reached out to take Vanessa’s hand. “Thanks.”

Vanessa nodded and then tilted her head at Wardle before stepping out of the room, Wardle following. “Just tap the glass when you’re ready.”

Robin, Cormoran and Ilsa stepped to the window and watched as Wardle and Vanessa entered and sat down across from Matthew.

Matthew was dressed in a Masham rugby t-shirt she recognized as one she used to wear to sleep in and his hair was tousled as though he’d run his fingers through it in agitation. There were dark circles under his eyes and his mouth had a pinched look that she recognized as restrained annoyance.

Wardle spoke, “You doing alright there Mr. Cunliffe?”

“My tea’s gone cold.” Matthew shrugged.

“Would you like a fresh cup?” Vanessa was all solicitation.

“No. I’d like to see my wife.” The annoyance was now obvious.

“Strike was just able to reach her, so she’ll be here soon. However, you need to know, I can’t force her to talk to you if she doesn’t want to.” Wardle leaned back in his chair, draping an arm over the back, conveying a relaxed manner Robin was sure he didn’t really feel. It struck her again that much of what they did as detectives was playacting.

“She’ll talk to me. I know her. Whether or not Cormoran wants her to or not.” He practically spat her partner's name.

She smiled at the snuffle of laughter Cormoran tried unsuccessfully to suppress. Robin laid her hand on his arm where it was braced against the wall as he leaned on it watching Matthew through the window. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No. It doesn’t” His gaze was warm on her face. He steadied her so easily.

She turned back to the window.

Wardle was taking a sip from the coffee he’d carried into the room with him, “You have a problem with Strike?”

“Course I do. He’s a sociopath.” Matthew threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know how I’m the only one who sees it. He’s done nothing but put ideas in Robs head. Leading her to think she’s some great investigator. Letting her get attacked and almost killed. He doesn’t give a fuck about her. He’s just hoping she’ll eventually hop into bed with him.”

Vanessa shook her head, “That doesn’t sound like the Robin I know. But I guess you’d know her better.”

“Yeah. I do.” His tone left no doubt that he thought he knew Robin better than anyone else. “She’s vulnerable. She needs to be protected. He’s taking advantage of her.”

Robin had heard enough. She turned to Cormoran.

“I’m going to go in on my own.”

He only raised an eyebrow at her, even as Ilsa sputtered, “No. But you can’t!“

“No. I need to.” She glanced at Ilsa. “If I take Cormoran in there it’ll just antagonize him. It’ll start a pissing contest that will keep us here all night. I’d rather hear what he has to say, get Eric and Vanessa the information they need and go home. Will what I get him to say be something The Met can use if they need to?”

Ilsa thought about it, "Considering Matthew isn't currently under arrest and he's so far waived his right to counsel, and he's asked for you repeatedly on the record, yes. I think so. It's a fine line, but prosecution could make it stick if needed."

She looked back at Cormoran, “Are you OK with this?”

He smiled the smile he saved only for her. The one that she’d first seen when he’d listened to her impersonate Rochelle Onifade to get her address. The one he’d given her countless times now. It settled her roiling stomach and bolstered her confidence.

“I’ve never doubted you.”

She kissed him lightly and then turned to rap a knuckle softly against the glass.


	16. Chapter 16

Who am I, what and why  
'Cause all I have left is my memories of yesterday  
Oh these sour times

**Sour Times - Portishead**

Despite his words, and the fact that he meant them, Cormoran struggled to keep his mouth shut as he watched Robin walk to the door and slip out. He heard the door to the interview room open and the brief conversation she had with the two detectives, going over the plan, what she would need to do to indicate she wanted to leave, what they would do in the event Matthew got testy.

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Wardle was asking her.

“Yes. I have to.” She was probably right about that.

Wardle again, “We’ll all be in observation. If you want out, at any point, stand up. I’ll be in there in two seconds.”

“Roger that.” He couldn’t help the smile those words conjured. Nor the brief flash of her golden hair sleep rumpled as she sat up from sleeping in the back of the Land Rover on their trip to Barrow.

“I’m going to step back in and let him know you’re here. Give him the rules.” Wardle said.

He heard her deep sigh and wished, once again, that he could get her out of this situation.

A moment later he was watching her stride into the interview room like she owned it. Shoulders back, hands loose at her sides, face blank. She made one hell of a bad cop.

Robin looked toward the window, clearly unsure of where exactly Cormoran was, but he felt her eyes lock onto his even though she couldn’t see him. She allowed her gaze to linger there for a moment as she walked to the chair at the table in front of Matthew, as though she could feel his eyes on hers.

He’d been watching her from the moment she’d entered the room. Assessing her.

“Your hair’s longer.” He finally said.

“Easier to manage.”

“I like it.” He smiled in a manner Cormoran was sure anyone else might find charming.

“Why did you ask for me Matt?” She sounded utterly uninterested in his opinion of her appearance. It made Cormoran’s lips lift in a tiny smile. His Robin was fierce.

“Good girl,” Wardle muttered, standing next to him, eyes on Robin.

“Why wouldn’t I ask for you?” Matthew countered.

“I honestly have no idea. I’m not with the Met. We’re divorced. I’m not a part of your life anymore.” She shook her head in seeming confusion. “This has nothing to do with me really.”

“Nothing to do with you?” His eyes widened in shock. “Robin, the man I was attacked by last night is the same man who attacked you when we were in uni. You don’t think that’s something to do with you? You don’t think it’s a coincidence? He just stumbled upon our flat? Decided it looked like the right place to rob?” Matthew’s voice pitched further up with each question.

“I know who he was.” Her voice still even and slightly uninterested. “What I don’t understand is why you’re insisting on talking to me instead of DI Wardle and DS Ekwenski. I’m not a police officer, I can’t help you. Surely you know that.” Cormoran thought it showed great restraint that she didn’t mention that he’d denigrated her job numerous times during their marriage.

“I wanted to make sure you knew what had happened. You had a right to know.” This was said with incredulity. As though she should have figured this out on her own.

“I understand that, and I can appreciate it, but I don’t understand why you had to wait to see me before explaining what happened. You know Vanessa is my friend. You had to know she’d tell me.” Robin shook her head again.

Vanessa confirmed this, “You bet I would. If only to give her a chance to imagine Cunliffe sitting in a cell for a while.” She smirked. “Tosser.”

In the interview room Robin was saying, “…still, you need to tell the police what happened.”

“Will you stay with me while I do?” He pleaded.

Cormoran knew Robin well enough to know that she’d agree. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. He’d have stayed if Charlotte had needed him in a situation like this and Robin’s innate kindness and empathy would prevent her from leaving Matthew to face an interrogation alone. 

He sighed softly as Robin, unsurprisingly and as he’d predicted, agreed.

Ilsa, who had been quiet through the whole thing spoke up now, “Cormoran? Do you think Robin would want me to find him a lawyer?”

Cormoran nodded, “Yeah. It couldn’t hurt to have someone on standby.”

She nodded and touched his hand as she pulled out her phone and started toward the door.

“Ilsa?” he called after her.

She turned back. “No one from your firm. No one even closely connected to you. OK?”

“Understood.” And she stepped from the room with the phone already at her ear.

Wardle and Vanessa had moved toward the door as well. Wardle looked over his shoulder at Cormoran, “You’ll be OK here?”

He nodded as he reached into his coat pocket for his notepad and pen. He scribbled something down, and ripped the page from the pad, folded it and handed it to Wardle. “Could you give that to her for me?”

Wardle nodded then opened the door for Vanessa.

Cormoran turned back to the window again, watching as Robin tried to soothe a now seemingly distraught Matthew.

“I’m sure they don’t think you were doing anything but protecting yourself. You just need to tell them…” She trailed off as Wardle and Vanessa entered the room.

“DI Eric Wardle and DS Vanessa Ekwenski entering interview. The time is six forty-four pm on the second of April two thousand thirteen. Mr. Cunliffe, can I get you anything before we proceed? Another cup of tea? Maybe some coffee?”

Wardle was all solicitation again. Vanessa, meanwhile, was currently looking like she’d swallowed something sour.

“No. Thanks. Let’s just get this over with.”

As Wardle approached the table he reached for Robin’s hand, “Miss Ellacott, can I get you anything? Some tea perhaps?”

Robin shook her head, then tilted it as she registered the slip of paper Wardle had handed her. She glanced to the window and again Cormoran felt her make eye contact with him. She nodded once and then closed her hand around the slip of paper without opening it.

Wardle took the chair next to her, leaving Vanessa to lean against the wall opposite the window.

“Mr. Cunliffe, now that you’ve had a moment to speak with Miss Ellacott, would you care to take us through last night’s events?” Vanessa’s tone was emotionless.

Matthew nodded as he began to speak. “I woke up when I heard the glass break downstairs. Next thing I knew the bastard was in our bedroom and I was fighting him. I shoved him away from me and he crashed through the window.”

“So, he didn’t hit you physically?” Wardle asked, as he pointed toward Matthew’s unblemished face.

“No. He must have been hyped up on something. He was flailing but nothing really landed. It honestly happened so fast. A matter of seconds really.” He shook his head. “Did you know he’d been released?” The last had been aimed at Robin.

“No. I didn’t.” She offered nothing else.

“Shouldn’t she have gotten a letter?” Matthew demanded of Wardle, ignoring Vanessa completely.

“She should have, yes.” Wardle agreed.

“I can’t believe they didn’t send her a letter. What if she’d been home instead of me?” Matthew’s voice was rising again.

“But she wasn’t, because she doesn’t live there anymore.” Vanessa interjected impatiently. Cormoran didn’t miss the tightening of Matthews lips at Vanessa’s words. He clearly didn’t like being reminded that Robin was no longer his wife.

“Let’s get back to last night. You said you woke up when you heard the glass break downstairs. What time was that?” Wardle asked in a conciliatory tone.

“Um, I think it was about four. I barely glanced at the clock. I just got up and grabbed my cricket bat and headed downstairs.”

Wardle pickup up the next question. “Where did you come upon him in the house?”

“He was already on the stairs. As soon as he saw me he shouted, ‘Where is she?” and came at me. I ran back toward our bedroom, but he grabbed me and shoved me into the wall.”

Robin was silent, listening, but he could see her hand clenched on her lap, under the table.

“OK. He shoved you into the wall, did that injure you at all?”

Matthew shook his head, puffed himself up a little, “No. I kind of just bounced off and kept heading toward our bedroom.”

Vanessa again, “When you got to the bedroom, did you close the door? Or leave it open?”

“I tried to slam it closed, but he pushed it open.” He held his hands up and mimed someone pushing as though against a door.

“Were you still holding the cricket bat?” Robin spoke up then guiltily glanced at Wardle, “Sorry. I just…”

“No, no…it’s a good question. Were you? Still holding the cricket bat?” Wardle waved her interjection away and looked at Matthew, waiting for his response.

“No. I must have dropped it in the hallway.” His eyes lowered to the table.

“When he entered the bedroom, where were you?” Vanessa picked up the questioning again.

“I was standing next to the bed.”

“Did he say anything to you? You to him?”

“Yeah, I was yelling at him to get out of our house. But he wasn’t listening. He was looking all over the room, shouting ‘Where is she?’ over and over.” He looked up at Robin, as though waiting for her reaction to those words.

“When did you recognize him?”

“Sorry?”

Vanessa asked again, “When did you recognize him? Oliver Trewin. When did you realize it was him?”

“On the stairs.”

“Weren’t the lights off?” Wardle asked.

“Yes.”

“How could you see him well enough? I can hardly see anything in the dark.” Wardle added a laugh at the end. Still playing good cop.

Robin’s hand had unclenched and Cormoran could see her thumb now rubbing the piece of paper he’d given Wardle, in a circle. It was still unread.

“I have good eyesight. Twenty twenty me entire life.” Matthew bragged, pride showing on his face.

“OK, so he’s yelling ‘Where is she?’ and you’re where in the room?”

“I told you, next to the bed.”

“What happened next?” Vanessa’s face was still dispassionate, impersonal.

“He came at me swinging and I backed away.”

“So he still didn’t hit you?” Wardle asked?

Matthew shook his head, “I backed away. But he grabbed my shirt and tried to pull me to him.” He glanced at the shoulder of his t-shirt. “Yeah, I ripped my shirt a little bit, trying to get him off me. See?”

He tugged the shoulder of the shirt forward to show a small rip in the seam.

Robin’s head tilted to the side, but again, she remained quiet.

“How did he end up in front of the window?” Wardle probed.

“Well…” Matthew paused for a moment to think. “I guess he must have turned us around in the scuffle. It all happened so fast, you know?” He glanced at Wardle and then Robin.

“And then?” Vanessa prompted.

“And then he came at me again and I shoved him away from me as hard as I could. He must have stumbled back and the next thing I knew the window was shattering and he was falling.” He was looking at the table again.

“Did you try to catch him?” Robin asked quietly.

“I couldn’t Rob. It happened so fast.” His eyes were now full of tears. Cormoran wondered if they were real, or for Robin’s benefit.

“OK. Well, I think I’m going to give you a few minutes to compose yourself.” Wardle stood up, “Miss Ellacott, if you like, you can head on home now. We’ll call you with any questions.” He held out his hand to help Robin to her feet, and then motioned toward the door.

“Robin?” Matthew twisted in his chair, trying to keep Robin in his view. “You’re going to leave me here?”

“I have to Matthew. I’m not police.” She shooke her head as she walked toward the door.

“But…”

Vanessa stepped between Matthew and Robin, allowing Robin to exit the room.

Cormoran opened the door to the observation room to allow Robin to rejoin him. As she entered the room her eyes found his immediately. He read sorrow and pain.

“You OK?” He asked hesitantly.

“I think so. I just…”

He waited for her to sort her thoughts out. He knew she was struggling to make sense of the myriad emotions that must be rioting in her mind. Her rapist was dead, at the hands of her ex-husband, even if it was self-defense. It was enough to knacker anyone’s brain.

She’d still not finished her thought, and he watched as her face crumpled, the weight of those emotions clearly washing over her like a tidal wave.

She swayed slightly before he gathered her into him. A life preserver in the ocean of confusion she was experiencing. She turned her face into his chest and he felt her small hands clutch at the sides of his shirt, just above his waistband. He wrapped one arm around her and stroked her hair and back with the other as she quietly cried into his shirt. He could feel the fabric growing steadily wetter and wetter. It didn’t matter.

He kept his eyes on Matthew, through the window, as he lowered his cheek to rest on the top of her bright hair and just breathed her in, unsure of what to say to help her. Unsure of anything except that the woman in his arms had, over the last few years, become the center of his world, and he would do anything to keep her safe.


	17. Chapter 17

Oh, ghosts keep whispering  
Oh, the feather of a raven's wing turned white by the birch trees  
Ooh, this chill, when it gonna leave my bones?

**Before I Sleep – Joy Williams**

While they’d been inside the station the weather had taken a turn. Lightning was chasing across the sky as they climbed out of the cab they’d taken from The Met. Robin could feel Cormoran’s worry for her as he opened the door to the flat and stood back to let her enter ahead of him. It was radiating off him almost visibly.

He’d hardly spoken to her in the cab, though he’d held her hand in his huge one the whole ride, he’d kept his face turned toward the window, as though he was watching the progress of the storm. She was sure he was rethinking having gotten involved with her. Who could blame him? They’d just decided to try being a couple and now here was her ex-husband back in her life, out of nowhere. And in such an unexpected manner.

She shrugged out of the jacket she’d been wearing, and he took it from her, turning to hang it on the coat rack along with his. She set her big bag on the table and pulled the brunette wig out of it, combing her fingers through the strands to detangle them, focusing on that task to prolong the conversation she knew she needed to have with her partner.

She glanced back at him, as she carried the wig through the hall into the kitchen, “Tea?”

He nodded, following behind her, eyebrows lowered in thought, eyes unfocused.

“I’ll just go put this on its stand.” She held the wig up. “Be right back.”

He hummed low in his throat. 

She hurried down the hall and opened her closet and after brushing the wig and returning it to its place, turned and sat down at her vanity. She stared into her own eyes, hoping to see something that would tell her how to handle this new turn of events.

The man she used to love had killed the man who’d destroyed her dreams for a time. The two men who, aside from her father and Cormoran, had had such profound influences on her life, wrapped together in a death now.

Anger, fear, anxiety, and most concerning, gratitude.

She was disconcerted to find that she was thankful that the man who’d attacked her, robbed her of the experience of uni, and the first class honors she’d been on track to earn, was dead.

And that emotion weighed on her heavier than any of the others.

It wasn’t right to be grateful.

It wasn’t appropriate.

A man’s life had been taken.

It didn’t matter that that man had caused her life to veer off track, that he had destroyed her dreams. That because of him she’d spent nearly a year shut away from the world in Masham. That because of him Matthew had first cheated with Sarah.

 _No._ She stopped herself. _That wasn’t Tigwell’s fault. That had been Matthew’s decision._

But Tigwell…He was someone’s son, brother, grandson. She knew he’d had a family who’d been shocked and devastated by his actions.

She was profoundly ashamed of herself for feeling this inescapable relief.

“Robin?”

Startled, she met Cormoran’s eyes in her vanity mirror. It was the first time she could remember him ever being in her room in the time they’d lived here. Since they’d become lovers she’d stayed in his room with him each night. It was easier on him that way and she didn’t mind. She just wanted to be curled against his warmth.

“Are you OK?” He stayed in the doorway, not quite entering her room.

She searched for the words to explain how she felt, but fear backed them up in her throat. What if he thought she was a monster for feeling this? What if he turned away from her? How could he possibly understand this when she didn’t? How could she explain it?

She realized she still hadn’t answered him. She was just sat there, staring at him.

He moved into the room and sat on the corner of the foot of her bed, legs splayed, forearms resting on his thighs and knees. His face was close enough to touch, but she was afraid to.

Fear, anxiety and still, unrelenting, the gratitude.

Tears pooled in her eyes and she felt the first of them slide down her cheek.

She watched, blurrily, as Cormoran’s hand reached to wipe the track it had left, away.

She flinched. Not because she didn’t want to feel him. But because she was terrified that when she finally voiced this awful feeling to him, he’d regret ever having touched her to begin with.

His hand stayed where it was.

The tears came faster.

“I need you to talk to me Ellacott.” His eyes were dark, intense, but so very soft on her face. She felt his gaze like a caress.

She couldn’t tell him. She lifted her hands from her lap in a gesture of helplessness.

“I can’t. I’m so…I just…” She sobbed.

He tilted his head, contemplating her, puzzling her out in that way he had. Sometimes she could swear he was able to read her mind. Especially when he was looking at her like this.

“I can’t imagine what this must be doing to you. But Robin, you have to talk to someone about it. It doesn’t have to be me, if you aren’t comfortable with it. But you can’t keep it inside. It’s a situation you could have never been prepared for.” He slid off the bed and knelt in front of her, her knees on either side of his ribs, his hands sliding along the outside of her thighs, one settling at the small of her back, thumb rubbing small circles there.

She closed her eyes, unable to look into his when they were so full of trust and understanding.

“I imagine if I were you, I’d be feeling scared, anxious and probably even, relieved.”

Her eyes flew open as he uttered the last word. Startled that he’d hit upon that so quickly.

“Is that it?” he asked. “Relief?”

She nodded, hiccoughing, taking a shuddering breath.

“I…I…” She couldn’t speak through the lump now lodged firmly in her throat.

His hands cupped her face, waiting for her to meet her eyes. “It’s not wrong Robin. I promise you it isn’t. It’s not wrong to be relieved, even glad, that a person who hurt you is no longer able to hurt anyone again.”

“It must be,” she wailed. “He’s someone’s son Cormoran!”

“He is. He was.” He agreed. “But he also hurt you.”

Her startled gaze met his calm one again.

“He hurt you Robin. How could I not be grateful that he’s no longer able to hurt anyone else? I’ve seen you have one of the dreams.”

He leaned into her, rubbing his stubbled cheek against her smooth one, pressing a kiss to the hinge of her jaw.

“You’re human, and a kind one at that.” His whisper was soft, his breath warm against her ear. “I’d be more worried if you didn’t feel relieved. But it doesn’t surprise me at all to discover that you’re upset that you feel relieved.” He pulled back, once again framing her face in his hands.

“I feel like a monster.”

“Because you feel relief at a threat being removed from your life? Did you feel relieved when Brockbank was locked away? Would you be ashamed to feel relief if Laing had been the one Matthew had faced?”

She nodded. She lifted a hand to press it against one of the hands resting on her cheeks.

“How is this different? Brockbank and Laing are both locked behind bars for the rest of their lives. That’s as good as dead Robin. If you can be relieved that they’re no longer able to walk the streets, it’s not wrong to feel relief that your rapist is unable to do so either.”

He gathered her into his arms, and she lowered her head to his shoulder, breathing in his comforting scent of smoke, aftershave and something that belonged only to him. Sometimes she thought she’d be able to find Cormoran in a room, blindfolded. His scent had begun to comfort her long before she’d ever fantasized about his lips or hands on her skin.

“He apologized to me at the trial. Tigwell did.” She pulled back to look at Cormoran. “Just before I was due to testify he changed his plea to guilty. He read a statement and he apologized to me. He said he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done to me. That he and his mates had been partying and the drugs he’d used had caused him to act out of character, but that he understood now what he’d done and that he was sorry for everything. That he’d decided he didn’t want to hurt me all over again with a trial.”

She reached to her vanity for a tissue to blow her nose. “I was still such a mess from the attack at the time that I didn’t really register what he was saying. And Matthew, when my family told him about it, scoffed and said that he was probably trying to get a lesser sentence.”

Cormoran was silent, thumb still skimming her back, waiting for her to finish.

“I thought I’d forgiven him. I’d thought I’d done it without even realizing it. But now…How can I say I’ve forgiven him when I’m so relieved that he’s dead.” She buried her face in her hands again.

He gathered her close again as she sobbed out her remorse for the man who’d hurt her. It was times like these, when she was swamped by her empathy that he realized how fragile she could be. Her nature was one of kindness. Always.

She looked for the good in everyone. Even in the people that hurt her.

This is what made her so good with their clients, what made her so valuable to their agency. This innate goodness that she wore had been what had drawn him in over the last two years. Her restful, kind, unjudgmental Robinness.

It didn’t surprise him that she’d have forgiven her attacker, especially if he’d apologized to her and stopped the trial, eliminating the need for her to relive the horror he’d caused her.

Not many people in the world would have been able to find that forgiveness, but she’d done it. Despite the lingering panic attacks and bad dreams resulting from his actions.

But this empathy for him was tearing her apart now and he didn’t know how to help. So, he just held her while she cried. Comforting her as best he could with his presence.

After a few prolonged moments, Robin calmed enough to ease away from him. “Your leg must be giving you fits Cormoran.” She chided him as she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.

Robin wasn’t a pretty crier. Her pale skin turned blotchy and her nose turned bright red, but he thought that even in that moment, blotches, red nose, watery eyes and all, she was still the loveliest thing he’d ever been privileged to be around. Who else but Robin would be having a personal moral crisis and yet still worry about his discomfort while he comforted her.

Because he knew it would bother her until he switched positions he boosted himself to his feet and held his hand out to her. “Come have that cup of tea with me. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

She nodded as she took his hand, and then stopped to grab another tissue which she turned into mere fluff with an indelicate honk of her nose that made him grin, despite the situation.

He slung his arm around her shoulder and felt her sag into him as they exited her room, heading for the kitchen. He walked her to her favorite stool and then rest the kettle to boil. She watched him silently as he got down their mugs, a small plate, some biscuits and the honey. He chose a tea that was blended for relaxation and rest, hoping that it would help calm her enough so that she’d be able to sleep.

“Do you think they’ll let Matthew go?” She broke the silence.

He knew he’d need to tread carefully here. He picked up the kettle and poured as he answered her, “I guess it depends on what they find. If his story checks out, then they would have no reason to keep him.”

“I forgot to ask Ilsa if she could recommend a lawyer for him.”

He waved that away and said, “I figured you’d want that, so I asked her to get in touch with someone she trusts, but someone who isn’t directly connected to her or her firm. I don’t really want to drag Ilsa into this if we don’t have to.”

She nodded, agreeing, as she took the mug he handed her, set it down and took his hand. “Thank you Cormoran.” She met his eyes, held them. “I know this must be difficult for you as well.”

He shook his head. “It helps that I know you. I know that you’d never leave someone you cared about in a situation like this. And I understand that just because your marriage didn’t work out, that doesn’t mean you don’t still care about Matthew. He was a huge part of your life. An important part. He matters.” He shrugged.

“He was. Is.” She continued, “But I don’t love him anymore. And being in that room with him was really hard. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since before the divorce was final. I’ve not spoken to him since we handed everything over to our lawyers.”

“Hopefully Wardle and Vanessa will be able to clear his story and there won’t be any other need for you to be involved.” He paused, took a sip of his tea, hoping that him doing so would encourage her to do so as well. “But regardless, we’ll get through it. I’ll help in any way you need. You know that, right?”

She smiled a soft and wistful smile at him as she said, “I’ve never doubted you.”

“Good. Now finish your tea and let’s turn in for the night. You look completely worn out.”

“Always with the morale boosting.”

“What can I say, I’m a born flatterer.”


	18. Chapter 18

The sweetest submission  
Drinking it in

**Bedroom Hymns – Florence + The Machine**

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower in your loo?” Robin asked as she walked ahead of him into his room.

“Course not. Do you want me to get anything for you from yours?” He’d not forgotten the thought he’d had this morning about her belongings moving into his room. He’d decided he’d rather enjoy having reminders of her in his space. It would make the shift in their dynamic even more real.

“Oh I don’t want you to have to do that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you get in, get the shower started and I’ll go get your shampoo and stuff? That way you don’t have to walk around smelling like me all day tomorrow.” He finished with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t mind. I rather like the way you smell.” Her grin was almost her usual cheeky grin. “But if you feel you must, I won’t stop you.”

“I must.” He said, with mock solemnity and was rewarded with a swift laugh and the sight of the blue grey eyes that had been dull most of the day, now lighting with delight.

She crossed to him and took his face in her hands as she rose on her toes to press a soft kiss on his mouth. Her fingers lingered for a moment, rubbing the stubble on his cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, and he understood she wasn’t referring to him getting her toiletries for her.

“Anytime.” He returned and then gently nudged her toward his bathroom. “Go get your water started. I’ll be right back.”

He watched her turn away and enter the bathroom before he moved toward the door. As he walked to her loo and gathered her products, grabbing a sponge that was hanging from a small hook on her tiled wall as well, he thought back to a particularly passionate night they’d spent together a few weeks before.

He’d closed a case he’d been working for a few months and had taken her to a lovely dinner to celebrate. She’d been dressed in a short black lace cocktail dress with a flesh toned lining that had made it appear that she was nude under the lace.

He’d spent most of the night allowing his eyes to roam her body, hardly noticing the food on his plate, wondering if she was wearing undergarments, or if she really was nude under the dress. Her eyes had been filled with mischief as she’d licked chocolate mousse off the back of the spoon they were sharing for desert, when he’d asked her, “What’s under the dress?”

She’d responded, “You’ll find out.” And he’d felt her small foot sliding along his remaining ankle.

He’d been with plenty of women, but Robin was another creature entirely. Her wit. Her vivacity. Her brain. Her humor. The eyes that could be clear skies or stormy. The hair that glowed or glittered. The mind that worked so similarly, and yet so differently, to his.

At that moment, watching her lips enclose another bite of mousse and feeling the side of the delicate arch of her foot against his ankle, no other woman had ever been sexier to him. He was sure no other woman ever would be now that he'd found her.

Being with Robin was like being with fifty different women, in the best way possible. He knew he’d never find anyone else who would be able to come close to her.

He’d taken her home that night, riding in the back of a taxi, with his hand resting on her bare thigh. The dark of the backseat of the cab hiding the fingers he’d allowed to drift toward her center. The swishing of the tires on the wet streets and the low Arabic music their driver had playing, masking the sounds of her soft gasps anytime his fingers brushed close enough to her core to be able to tell that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath the dress.

They’d barely made it into the door before he’d almost ripped the dress from her long body. They hadn’t made it past the lounge before he’d had his mouth on her throat and her hands had been pulling at his belt buckle, then unbuttoning his fly and delving into his boxers.

He’d taken her the first time that night, bent over the back of the couch. His hand in her hair, pulling it gently back so that her neck was exposed for his teeth to sink lightly into. She’d been like lava around him.

It had been a mind-blowing experience for both of them.

And was a memory he knew he'd cherish until he was in his grave. 

He arrived back in his bedroom to find her already in the shower, eyes closed, humming softly to herself as she warmed herself under the spray. He rapped on the doorjamb, unable to take his eyes from her wet form.

Her eyes popped open and she smiled. That smile was full of impish delight. “Thanks, Cormoran. You can set them there.” And she pointed to the ledge next to her. He tugged the clear curtain back just enough to allow him to set her bottles down, before he reached into the shower and got the sponge wet under the spray.

“Want me to wash your back?” He offered hoarsely.

“Mmm” was her only response, but she turned and offered him her back, pulling her waterlogged rose hair around her neck to drape over her right breast.

He picked up her body wash and poured a generous amount onto the now soaking wet sponge. He rubbed the sponge into the palm of his free hand to warm the gel and start the lathering process, before finally smoothing the sponge down her spine and following it with his soapy hand.

Her back curved to meet his palm and she let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

He continued to gently wash her back, hand and sponge smoothing lather over her skin, skimming along her sides, the sides of her breasts. When her arms lifted to allow him access to wash underneath, the ran the sponge along the underside of her arm while his hand ran along the top, meeting at her fingers, where he briefly tangled his among hers. Rubbing his thumb into her palm.

He paid the same attention to her other arm before gently pressing her right shoulder, which she must have understood was a command for her to turn. He set the sponge back on the ledge of the tub and took the second shower head down, running it along the arm closest to him while she rinsed her back in the spray from the stationary head.

Then he turned her back to him again, before pulling her hair back around to drape along her back. Using the second shower head this time to re-wet her hair before hanging it back up and grabbing her shampoo bottle. He again, poured a generous amount out, this time onto his left palm, before rubbing his two hands together and letting his fingers gently start to massage her scalp.

She couldn’t stop the exultant moan this time. “Ohhh. That feels so good.”

He didn’t respond but continued to lather her hair and rub firmly along her scalp. Massaging away the tension he could feel resting there. He dragged the lather down through the ends of her hair before lifting the shower head again and whispering, “Close your eyes.”

“OK,” she said dreamily.

He moved the spray to the top of her head and very carefully rinsed the suds from the rose gold strands, the scent of her shampoo now swirling through the steam and tightening the muscles in his thighs.

He continued to her conditioner, slicking it through the ends of her hair, combing it through with his fingers. And then rinsing his hands in the spray.

Then he turned her to face him, leaving the conditioner to work on her hair for a bit.

He picked the sponge back up and reloaded it with the shower gel that matched her perfume. The delicate floral scent wafting through his senses and oddly making his mouth water with anticipation of a wet and warm Robin laid out on his bed for him to feast on.

He warmed the gel against his left hand and proceeded to run the sponge over her stomach, his hand, again, following the trail of suds it left in its wake. Up to the cleft between her breasts, lifting each one gently and smoothing the gel along them. Her gasps and sighs coming more frequently. Her hands rose to rest on his shoulders, the water clinging to her fingers dampening his already misted shirt even more.

He reached for her thigh, pulling it up so that her left foot rested on the edge of the tub, allowing him to stroke the sponge down to her foot, around her ankle, his hand still following and sliding down to the red painted toes. He slid the sponge back up to her thigh, wrapping it around to the inside, allowing his hand to join it, but stopping just short of where he knew she was craving it.

He repeated the same process on the other leg. Slowly stroking lather along the soft and warm skin. This time as he reached the top of her thigh he allowed the sponge to fall away and he very gently, very lightly allowed his hand to cup her center.

Her head dropped forward on a moan full of need, landing on his shoulder and turning to allow her to whisper dazedly in his ear, “Oh my God…Fuck.”

He smiled to himself. When Robin started cursing like that, it promised to be a thoroughly enjoyable evening. He knew they both needed this distraction. She needed the comfort and he needed to comfort her.

As he guided her leg back down so that her foot was resting on the floor of the tub, he lifted the shower head one last time, to rinse the conditioner from her hair. Then he leaned over and shut off the water as Robin stood there waiting. He grabbed a towel from his towel rack and started to blot the water from her skin and hair. She turned and raised her arms, allowing him to draw the towel around her body. He grabbed a second towel and handed it to her so she could wrap her dripping hair, before he took her hand and helped her step from the tub. He pulled her warm, dampness into his body and lowered his mouth to hers.

He was just getting started.


	19. Chapter 19

Bring the floor up to my knees  
Let me fall into your gravity  
Then kiss me back to life to see  
Your body standing over me

**I Miss You - Adele**

“Go get dried off and ready for bed. I brought your lotion for you as well. It’s on my dresser.” He released her and walked from the room, not even waiting for her eyes to drift open. He wanted her off balance. The way she kept him.

“Hmmm,” she hummed in reply.

He went about his nightly routine, then turned down the bed sheets and slid into his spot. He picked up his well-worn volume of Catullus and flipped to the page he’d selected to start with. And he settled in to watch the show Robin was unintentionally putting on for him.

He watched as she toweled her limbs off, keeping her eyes averted from his. He sensed her confusion, but he knew that once she joined him in bed it would ease. She was so gloriously graceful, sliding into her pants and the brief sleeping tank she’d begun to wear now that she was sleeping in his bed. She joked that she didn’t need anything near as heavy as her previous flannel pants, not with his furnace of a body next to her, cuddling her close through the nights.

She glanced his way and he was quick to glance back to his book, to give the impression that he really was reading, as she picked up the delicately scented lotion that matched her perfume and began to slick it over her arms and chest. His nostrils flared as the scent that he would forever associate with gilded hair, soft lips, delicate hands and blue grey eyes bloomed in the air.

It was becoming difficult to continue to pretend he wasn’t as aware of her as he really was. Especially when she stepped to the end of the bed and propped a foot on the bench he kept there, bending over slightly, giving him a glimpse of her gently rounded breasts, as she smoothed the creamy lotion over first one leg, then the other.

She picked up the towels and walked back into the bathroom, and he supposed she was hanging them up. Then she walked out of the bathroom and straight out his bedroom door, without a word.

He waited a minute, wondering if he’d miscalculated this plan of his. But just as he was about to swing his legs out of bed and grab his crutches to go after her she walked back in, brushing her hair.

“You forgot my hairbrush.” She smiled at him as she bent over from the waist and brushed her hair upside down, before laying the brush on his dresser and then twisting her hair into a loose knot, securing it with hairpins.

“Sorry about that.”

“S’OK,” and she walked toward the bed, settling beside him and leaning back into the pillows he’d fluffed for her. “What’re you reading tonight?”

“Cattulus.” And he waited.

“Read me one?” she asked as she slid closer, her leg sliding across his, her arm coming to a rest with her elbow on his stomach and her hand upon his heart. He wrapped an arm around her so that she could lay her head on his shoulder and began to read in Latin.

“Passer, deliciae meae puellae,  
quicum ludere, quem in sinu tenere,  
cui primum digitum dare appetenti  
et acris solet incitare morsus,  
cum desiderio meo nitenti  
carum nescio quid lubet iocari  
et solaciolum sui doloris,  
credo ut tum gravis acquiescat ardor:  
tecum ludere sicut ipsa possem  
et tristis animi levare curas!”

“Mmmm hmmm.” Robin snuffled a soft giggle. “And that means?”

Cormoran began to translate. Stroking his thumb along her upper arm and shoulder as he did so. Her head snuggled deeper into his shoulder, her lips pressing to his collarbone.

“Sparrow, o, Lesbia’s sweet bird  
whom she keeps near to stroke

at her bosom, to whom with delight  
she offers a restless finger,”

His hand moved to the side of her breast. Thumb still stroking, coming just shy of her now tightening nipple. He felt her sharp intake of breath, as she realized that he wasn’t finished with her as she’d thought. He could almost feel the heat rising from her core as her breathing became shallower.

“prodding for bites, tiny wounds,  
if ever my fiery lady needs some

distraction from passion’s sweet pain…  
o! that I could play with you myself”

Here he gently pinched her nipple. His eyes left the book for a moment to glance at her face as she gasped, her hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, to keep him there. He released her nipple to her accompanying moan, rubbing it with a soft stroke of his thumb. Her face turned up to his as though she was going to speak. Instead she just watched his face, waiting for him to finish the poem.

He closed the book with a soft thump, setting it down on his night stand, as he finished,

“little sparrow, you would free  
my thoughts from despair.”

He gently slid her further down onto the mattress, rolling to allow his right hand to pick up where his left had been. Using his left hand now to caress her jaw, his thumb tilting her face up so that he could devour the lips that were now slightly open, softly panting breaths whispering through them.

“That was…” Robin lost track of her thoughts as his mouth closed around the nipple he’d pinched, through the thin cotton of her sleeping tank. She arched into him and buried her hands in his hair, holding his head to her breast. “Mmmm…lovely.”

Over the last few weeks she’d discovered things about herself and her preferences that she’d never known before. Cormoran was an incredibly giving lover, kind and gentle, while simultaneously demanding and provocative.

He’d introduced her to sensations she’d never felt before. Nips of his teeth in spots she’d never been nipped but that caused waves of molten heat to course through her nerve endings. She was learning that pain could be enjoyable, when done right.

His hands could be firm and rough one moment, but utterly tender and gentle the next. His mouth the same way. Especially when he was using it on her. One moment soft and supple, spreading moisture through her center, working in concert with his fingers as they pumped into her heat, but the next his mouth was insistent, demanding, sucking, pulling, wringing the hardest orgasms of her life from her.

Those were the moments she couldn’t stop the screams he wrought. Usually his name, groaned, the N drawn out as her hips arched off the bed and toward his mouth as though there was no other place that part of her body could ever wish to be but consumed by him.

Tonight, he seemed intent on a slow build. His hands hadn’t even made it past her waist yet, and already her legs were scissoring. She craved his weight between those legs. The feel of his skin against hers.

She was impatient, especially after the way he’d touched her in the shower. Something she should have expected from him but had been utterly dazed by. She knew he was a thoughtful and loving man. But somehow, she’d never expected him to show that much care and attention to her. But those moments had been so quietly arousing that by the time his hand had slid between her legs she’d been ready to come right into his palm.

He was sliding his hands down her rib cage, mouth still moving along her sternum. His thumbs hooked under the hem of the tank and tugged it up, and over her head, freeing her breasts to press into his palms.

He eased himself over her, murmuring “So sweet. My Robin.”

She loved it when he called her his. “His” Robin. Because she absolutely was his. Nothing had ever been as right in her life as the feel of his hands on her, his lips on hers, his breath in her ear.

His mouth dropped to hers as his fingers danced over her ribs in a manner that should have been ticklish, but was instead, incredibly arousing.

“Cormoran…Please. I just…” She needed him to touch her. To stop teasing.

“I know. Calm down Ellacott. You can wait a little.”

“Why do you only ever call me that anymore when you want me to wait?” she groaned.

“Because I like how it makes your eyes flare with lust.” He grinned up at her, from where he was finally easing down her torso. His tongue circled her navel as his hands pressed against the softness of her hips, thumbs skimming the points of her hipbones and pulling her pants away from her body.

“I swear, if I’d ever seen your eyes do that when I called you Ellacott before I’d have had you long before now. I wouldn’t have been able to help it.”

She tried to shift her hips upward, but he chuckled and pressed her back down. “Not. Yet.”

She groaned, completely frustrated. But at the same time, she reveled in his dominance.

“Tell me what you want Ellacott…” He trailed off as he pressed kisses to the hipbones he’d just been stroking.

“You! I fucking want you,” she sobbed out.

He stopped his ministrations and looked up at her, his eyes glowing with lust and heat. “I know. But tell me how. What do you want me to do to you? Do you want me to lick you?” He licked her abdomen, right next to the jut of her hipbone, ending with a slight suck of the taut skin there. Swirling his tongue along the ridge. Eliciting a moaning hum from her. She seemed to have lost her words.

He was having none of that. 

“Tell me Ellacott,” he whispered into her abdomen. Pressing a kiss just above the golden curls shielding her center from him. He rubbed his chin against those curls as he waited for her response.

“Your mouth, oh God, Cormoran…Use your mouth. Now!”

Her hands were busy now. One buried in his hair, tugging, and the other pulling and pinching at her nipple. He was sure that if he satisfied that request she’d come immediately against his tongue. As much as he wanted that, he wanted to draw her out a little longer.

He loved seeing Robin this lost in desire. It was entrancing. Her skin flushed and rosy. Her limbs twitching with the oncoming orgasm, but relaxed.

“I’m very sorry to disappoint you, but you’re going to have to wait.” And he knelt up between her legs, long enough to flip her over onto her stomach.

She moaned as he pulled her hips into his. His erection still covered by his boxers, coming to a rest along the cleft of her ass.

He laid his chest along her back, one hand stroking her stomach, refusing to stray below her abdomen, the other coming up to press her head to one side, against his arm, allowing him to kiss the skin behind her ear, down to her freckled shoulders.

He trailed his mouth down her back. Kissing each rib. Each knob of her spine. Tracing them with his tongue. Her weight was braced on her arms now, her hips grinding back into his groin, nearly sending him over the edge before he eased himself away.

He pressed kisses to the indentations just above her sweetly rounded arse and then shifted himself over onto his back. Laying himself under the very spot she wanted him.

He wrapped his arms around her strong thighs and pulled her core down to his mouth, licking into her warmth, her flavor bursting on his tongue, just as his name burst from her throat. “CORMORAN!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!”

He grinned against her flesh, before settling in to wring her release from her. He really did love it when she cursed in bed. His proper Robin, foul language, salt, skin and desire fiercer than his steamiest fantasies, all combined to have his cock rock hard and ready to explode. But first, Robin. Always Robin.

He could feel her thighs start to tremble, the muscles there quaking against his hands and arms and he sped his tongue up, sucking gently, before adding just the edge of his teeth to send her catapulting of the ledge she was teetering on.

A wordless scream exploded from her lips as her hips pistoned against his face.

He was up and behind her again, boxers discarded and cock sliding firmly into her heat before her orgasm finished. He held still for a moment, feeling the flex and pull of her residual tremors before he started to pump himself into her.

“I love this. I love being inside you Ellacott. Feeling you squeezing me.” He groaned as she squeezed him tighter, flexing her muscles and rocking her hips against his.

He reached up and grabbed the knot that was coming loose on her head. He yanked the few pins out, allowing the damp tresses to spill free, before he gathered them in his hand and used them to pull her head back, giving him access to her cheek and mouth.

He dragged his lips up her neck, across her neck and to her mouth. His tongue delved into her mouth for a moment, before he whispered in her ear, “Tell me you like it when I fuck you. Tell me now.” He bucked into her, the pressure gathering in his lower spine telling him it wouldn’t be long before he’d come into her. “Tell me…”

“Fuck me Cormoran. Please. I love it when you fuck me.”

Her hips writhed, and her head turned and her mouth to bit down on the thumb he was rubbing her cheek with.

As soon as he felt her teeth clamp down on him he exploded into her. “Ahhh! Fuck!!! God!!!!”

Her arms collapsed, and she fell into the bed, he followed her down, easing her to her side, keeping her tight to his body, enveloping her in his arms. He smoothed her hair from her face and raised himself just enough to reach her ear.

Allowing him to whisper softly, “I love you Robin Ellacott.”

Her hand slid into his, where it rested between her breasts.

Some words didn’t need to be said. He could feel them. In the air between them. In the breath that had caught at his words. In the tear that splashed onto his arm, where her head was pillowed.

This woman was the embodiment of love, and even if she never said the words back to him, he’d never doubt what she felt for him. Never.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay and for leaving you hanging. The holidays crept up on me, and then my oldest son had to move into his college dorm 800 miles away from home immediately after, and then I was on a two and a half week business trip in Atlanta. I've been run ragged and all the ideas I've had during this time have just been festering. I hope this gets me back on track. 
> 
> Rose x

_Are we out of the woods yet?  
Are we in the clear yet?_

**Out Of The Woods** – Taylor Swift

When Robin woke the next day Cormoran was already gone. Judging by the steam rising from the cup of tea he’d left on the table next to her, he’d likely not been gone long. She sat up and swept her hair out of her eyes, feeling muscles pulling and tugging in the best way. She felt the flush sweep over her face as she thought about the things she’d said the night before. But she didn’t regret it.

Not when Cormoran had opened himself up that way. Those words were words she knew he’d had to fight to say. Years of failure with Charlotte had built a wall around him that she’d only just started to see crumble. There was a particular pleasure in knowing that she was the one who’d swung the sledgehammer to start that demolition.

She reached for the mug of tea and noticed a folded note lying beside it. Smiling she opened it to find his spiky handwriting,

_Ellacott,_

_You were so lovely last night, it was torture to pull myself away, but business calls._

_Waking up next to you, these past few weeks, has been like nothing I’ve ever experienced. You lit up my world in so many ways, even before you mauled me in the hallway, but now, it’s almost blinding._

_Thanks for that._

_I love you._

_C_

_P.S. I’m betting you’ve already blushed three times since you woke up. I love that too._

She grabbed her cell phone and typed out a quick text:

_Mauled you?_

_If I recall correctly you were the one pushing me against the wall and biting my neck. Not that I’m complaining._

_I’ve only blushed twice, thank you very much. But I’m sure I’ll get to three eventually._

_I’m hopping in the shower and then heading to the office. Will you be there?_

_Want coffee?_

_R x_

She thought for a moment and then sent:

_Oh…and, you’re welcome._

_I can definitely say the same._

_R x_

His response was almost immediate.

_I’ll be here. Slaving away. Chained to my desk._

_Coffee would be great. I await your pleasure._

_C x_

Flirty Cormoran was a new thing, but Robin decided she liked it. A lot.

She climbed out of bed and headed to the shower, flushing, for the third time that morning, at the thought of her lover chained to his desk.

An hour later she was calling out a greeting to Denise as she walked into the office, carrying a small tray of coffees. She set the tray down on the table next to the door and shrugged out of her light jacket, hanging it on the coatrack that had migrated from the Denmark Street office to this new, spiffier abode.

“How’s it been this morning?” she asked the secretary as she handed her a cup of her preferred cappuccino.

“Not many calls, but quite a few emailed requests. The wait list is getting quite long.” Denise grinned at Robin.

“Not a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.” She gestured to Cormoran’s office, “Anyone with him?”

“No ma’am. He just finished a call.”

She nodded and headed into his office, carrying his coffee with her own.

She rapped on his door before pushing it open and poking her head around the edge. “Good morning,” she said with a devilish grin as she stepped into the office and nudged the door closed with the heel of her boot. “I’m must confess my disappointment at the lack of chains clinking in here.”

He raised his eyebrows as his mouth quirked a smile. They’d yet to ever bring their romantic relationship into the office. But he supposed that comment had been called for.

She sauntered over and set his coffee in front of him, before perching on the corner at the end of his desk, legs slightly swinging, and fixed him with a smile.

“Cheers.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip. His eyes twinkled at her, daring her to take her teasing further.

“Denise says our wait list is getting long. Have you given any thought to taking on another sub?” She jumped right in to business. Leaving the sexy overtones of her entrance as they were.

With a quiet chuckle at her refusal to continue to play, he leaned back in his chair, scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah…I’ve been thinking about it. How would you feel about bringing on another female detective?”

“Really?” Her eyes lit with delight. “I’d love that! Do you have someone in mind?”

“Not especially. I thought I’d see if Wardle or Vanessa could give us any recommendations.” He tilted his head, eyes drifting to the window, and she could see the longing for a cigarette in his eyes.

“I think that’s a great idea.” She paused. “But maybe we should wait until after they wrap up this thing with Matthew.”

He nodded again. Sipped his coffee. Met her eyes.

“How are you?”

She didn’t try to dissemble. She knew what he was asking.

“I think I’m OK. I meant what I said to Matt last night in that room.” She sipped her coffee and took a deep breath. “I don’t really have anything to do with it. I wasn’t there. He didn’t attack me again. And I can’t really help Matthew out of this.” She shrugged. “Not much for me to dwell on now that you’ve helped me work through the emotional stuff.”

“But you will still talk to your therapist about it right?”

“Of course. Absolutely.” She hurried to assure him. He was so fierce about her maintaining her mental health, ever since the panic attack she’d had on the roadway verge, he’d been firm that she needed to be seeing a therapist, even going so far as to offer to go with her if it helped her feel better about it.

She’d declined his offer, but it had meant the world to her that he’d made it. Just as it had meant the world when he had shared his experiences from therapy with her over the course of the last months after she’d started seeing her therapist regularly. And now that they were living together, even before their relationship had changed, he’d made it a point to be there for her after her appointments, to talk, to listen, whatever she needed. He’d been there, letting her know that he didn’t see her need for therapy as a weakness, but rather a strength.

“Yeah. I think I’m going to make a special appointment, just so I can explain the situation and get her feedback. The more I talk it through the easier it’ll be to process.”

They both looked around as there was a light tapping on his door. Denise popped her head around the jamb and said, “Sorry to interrupt but you’re eleven thirty is here Robin.”

“Oh!” Robin hopped down from Cormoran’s desk, straightened her blouse and smoothed her hair back over her shoulders. “Could you bring tea into my office for her, Denise?”

“Sure thing.”

Robin looked back at Cormoran as she walked to the door, “Want to grab some lunch after my meeting with Mrs. Griffin?”

He nodded and winked at her as she looked back at him over her shoulder. “Come find me when you’re through.”

Mrs. Griffin was, like most of their female clients, positive that her spouse was cheating, but dreading the actual finding out. Robin talked her through the terms and conditions, the expenses and fees, and then sent her off with exhortations to think about it before taking the next step. “You can reach me via email when or if you decide you’re ready.”

Robin had extreme sympathy for wives who suspected their husbands of unfaithfulness, having been a victim of the same herself. She enjoyed helping these women not only find the proof they needed for their divorce proceedings, but also the support groups and help they needed to make clean breaks.

She walked Mrs. Griffin to the door and then, looking at the slim gold watch around her wrist, headed toward Cormoran’s office, once again knocking and then slipping inside. He was on the phone as she entered, so she slid into the dark leather wingback chair in front of his desk, crossing her legs and leaning her head against the wing, settling in to enjoy watching him for a few minutes.

He smiled at her as she took her seat, holding up a finger to indicate he’d just be a moment.

“I think it would be a good idea to follow that up. I can be available tomorrow if you have the time and can set it up.” He nodded, even though whoever was on the end couldn’t see him. “Sure. Just text me the time you settle on and I’ll have Denise clear my schedule.”

After a few more moments and a brief goodbye he slid his phone into his suit jacket and leveled a contemplative gaze on her face. His head tilted slightly to one side as he asked, “You OK?”

“I am.” She sighed, “Mrs. Griffin has all of the information I can give her and now we wait for her to make a decision. Poor thing.” She glanced down at the phone in her hand as it beeped to indicate a new message from an unfamiliar number but didn’t open it. “Are you ready for lunch?”

Cormoran stood and they headed toward the door together. As he reached the door he paused, with his hand on the knob, and bent down to press a kiss to her cheek before opening the door and motioning her ahead of him. As she passed she rested her hand on his chest for a moment.

“Denise, we’re heading out for lunch and then I’ll go do my surveillance on Sticky Hands from there. Could you please send any calls to my voicemail on my phone?” Robin slid her arms into her coat as Cormoran held it for her, belting it loosely as she turned to Denise.

“Absolutely.” Denise turned to Cormoran. “Mr. Strike don’t forget you have a two thirty with Mr. Prescott.”

“Right. I’ll be back before that.” He turned to open the door for Robin, but swiftly turned back as though he was going to ask Denise a question but after a brief pause he only said, “Thanks,” before following Robin out into the hall and toward the lifts.

Robin pressed the button to call the lift and then slid her phone out of her pocket and called up the new text she’d received.

_Rob,_

_I’m sorry to ask but would you mind meeting me tomorrow for lunch at The Spaniards Inn in Hampstead. I can be there at 1:00 if you’re free._

_Matthew x_

She felt her heart speed up slightly in her chest and immediately started taking deep, quiet breaths to stave off the anxiety the message provoked.

Cormoran glanced over at her, “Everything alright?”

“Oh yes. Fine.” She decided in a split second not to share the contents of the message. At least not just yet. She knew Cormoran wouldn’t want her to meet Matthew alone, but she also knew that Matthew wouldn’t countenance Cormoran accompanying her to this lunch.

She called up her calendar and checked to make sure she’d be free, before responding back.

_I can meet you at 1:30._

_R_

She slipped her phone back into her coat pocket and took Cormoran’s hand just as the lift doors opened.


	21. Chapter 21

_I was a fool to wander and stray_   
_Straight is the gate and narrow the way_   
_Now I have traded the wrong for the right_   
_Praise the Lord. I saw the light._

**I Saw the Light – Hank Williams Sr.**

“We can’t get there before ten fifty Gooner. Looking at your watch every five seconds isn’t going to help time pass any faster.” Wardle snorted after Strike had checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes.

Wardle had suggested he and Strike meet in a small café just down the road from HMP Thameside to go over their plan for this visit.

“The prison warden Mr. Daniels is going to meet us in his office at eleven. We’ll go over the information he has on Trewin, ask our questions and see what we find out. Then we’ll head over to the visiting center and meet with Trewin’s cellmate, Andre Perry and do the same thing.” Wardle had explained. “It’s not usual for them to allow a civilian access like this. I was only able to pull the strings because of your service with SIB and the fact that you and Robin are on retainer with The Met.”

“I know Eric, and I appreciate it. I know you don’t have to let me in this with you. But you know…” Strike stopped short, looked away.

“I do, Gooner.” Wardle nodded soberly. He understood perfectly well what Strike wasn’t saying, and he felt much the same way, for different reasons.

Robin had been an asset to The Met multiple times. He’d joked with her on many occasions that she should toss Gooner to the curb and join him and Vanessa at The Met.

She’d always laughed, “Oh go on with you.” And waved his teasing away.

Robin was a great favorite with many of the detectives and officers at the station, both for her dogged determination with a case, but also for her kindness and reasonability. Everyone liked Robin.

Everyone.

Wardle had been mulling over this situation and had come to the same conclusion it appeared Strike had. Something wasn’t right with Cunliffe’s story. Quite a bit wasn’t right.

Strike had suggested reaching out to the prison staff to see if they could get an idea of Trewin’s state of mind upon leaving prison. Wardle had had the same thought and had been just about to place the call when Strike had called him to suggest it.

This time Wardle glanced at his watch. “Ready to go?” It was ten forty-five and they needed to check in at the prison at ten fifty. Strike nodded and gathered up his coat and scarf, tossing a few coins on the table before heading out the door ahead of Wardle.

They walked the two blocks to the entrance of HMP Thameside in silence. As they approached the forbidding brick edifice Wardle broke the silence. “We’ll have to go through security, you know. I’ve cleared your leg, but you’ll have to surrender everything else you have. Your cigarettes and lighter, wallet, phone.”

Strike nodded, “That’s fine. What about my notebook?”

“I think you can keep that.” Wardle chuckled, and pressed the button on the camera lock next to the entrance. He gave his name and with a buzz the lock was disengaged, allowing him to open the door. “After you.” He waved Strike through.

Twenty minutes later Wardle shook Samuel Daniels’ hand as he introduced Strike. “And this is my consultant Mr. Cormoran Strike. He’s assisting with the case and will accompany me to talk with Mr. Perry.”

Strike stretched out his hand saying, “Nice to meet you sir.” Glancing curiously around the rather plain beige painted office. There were very few personal touches.

“Likewise,” replies Daniels as he gestured to the two plain wooden chairs placed in front of his battered metal desk. “How can I help?”

“As I explained when I rang, we’re investigating the death of Oliver Trewin.” Daniels nodded his understanding as Wardle continued. “We understand he was released about six months ago and we were hoping you might be able to provide us with some insight into his time here at Thameside.”

“Right. Well, I had his file pulled as soon as we’d fixed this time and I’ve taken a glance through it.” He picked up a rather thin file from his desk and extended it to Wardle. “I didn’t see anything terribly out of the ordinary. But perhaps there’s something that will stick out to you gentlemen.”

Wardle opened it and started thumbing through as Daniels continued, “From what I read, there wasn’t much to do with Trewin. He was quiet and cooperative. He worked in the kitchens and seemed to enjoy it. The guards on his level tell me he was nice enough. Never had much to say. But wasn’t ever in trouble either. Kept to himself, or with his cell mate.”

“Did he have any hobbies? Make any mates aside from Perry?” Strike asked.

“If attending church services could be considered a hobby, then yes. He never missed a service in the entire ten years he was with us. In fact, he preached a couple sermons toward the end of his sentence.” Daniels paused, watching Strike make notes in his book and glanced at Wardle. “He was quite devout. And as I said, a model prisoner.”

“Did he have many visitors?” Wardle handed the file to Strike, who started leafing through it as well.

“Not too many. His lawyer. His mother, until she passed last year.” Another pause. “It’s my understanding that he had a small family.”

Wardle nodded. “Yes. Ours too. No one to really miss him on the outside.”

“Was his mail frequent?” Strike again.

“No. Not really. He’d get a letter here or there. But not frequently enough to show any type of pattern. And rarely from the same person, aside from his lawyer.” Daniels shrugged. “He really was a quiet man.”

Strike finished with the file and handed it back to Daniels with a murmured, “Thank you.”

“Would you gentlemen like to speak to Mr. Perry now? I can have him brought to the visiting center if you like.” Daniels rose and moved toward the door.

“That would be appreciated sir.” Wardle offered his hand again. “Thank you for your time.”

“I’ll call for him immediately. Boykins here,” he indicated a guard at the end of the hall, “will see you to the visiting center.”

He shook Strike’s hand. “Please let me know if we can help in any other way.”

“We will sir. Thanks again.” Wardle nodded to Daniels as he reached to shake hands with Boykins.

“Wade Boykins sirs.” Boykins shook Strike’s hand and motioned for them to follow him down the hall. He paused long enough to swipe his key card at the door, eliciting a buzz from the door lock and waved them through.

The continued on down a hallway, grey walls and floor, though the floor may have been white at one time, before age and countless shoes had worn it down. =

“Officer Boykins? I wonder if you could tell us anything about Oliver Trewin? Did you know him?” Wardle asked conversationally as he walked next to Boykins, Strike following just behind.

“I did. A little. He seemed nice enough.” Boykins buzzed them through another door, waiting for the other two men to pass through before following himself. “He was quiet and kept to himself.”

They came to another door, this one labeled Visiting Center and Boykins buzzed them through. “Perry’ll be here in just a few minutes. Can I get you gents coffee or tea?”

“Tea would be great.” Wardle glanced at Strike for confirmation and received a nod.

“Right. I’ll be right back with that.”

Strike watched as Boykins left the room then turned to Wardle, “Not much in that file.”

“No. Not much at all.” He agreed. “Sure doesn’t fit the description Cunliffe gave us though does it?”

“Not at all.”

Once again, they lapsed into silence as they waited for Perry to be brought to them. Boykins brought their tea and left them again. Wardle caught himself looking at his watch, much in the same manner he’d teased Strike about doing this morning. He snorted a laugh to himself.

“How’s Ellacott handling all this?” He hadn’t asked sooner, though he’d wanted to.

“Seems to be holding up well.” Strike was just as close mouthed as ever. Though he and Strike had gotten to be good enough friends over the last few years, he’d noticed that when it came to his partner Strike played things very close to the chest. Nothing that didn’t have to be said was ever said.

“If you don’t mind me asking, when did things change between you two?” Wardle knew he was potentially poking a bear. But he was genuinely curious, and this waiting was interminable.

“A couple months ago.” Strike shrugged but Wardle was pretty sure it wasn’t really a shrug-worthy matter. It was clear that Strike didn’t want to talk about it. But Wardle had never let something like that stop him. He just leveled a gaze at Strike and waited.

“What?” Strike exclaimed.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Nothing much else to say. We moved in together because she needed a roommate and I needed a new flat since my building got sold out from under me. Things happened.” He shrugged again.

“Things good?” At this point Wardle didn’t care if he was prying. He was enjoying Strike’s exasperation and embarrassment too much.

“They are.” Strikes eyes turned grave. “They really are. She’s…” He trailed off and shook his head, looking away.

“Go on.” Wardle prompted.

“She’s remarkable. You know you said yesterday that she has a spine of steel?”

Wardle nodded.

“That’s so true. She’s so tough and strong. But at the same time, she’s so soft.”

Wardle chuffed out a laugh and held out a hand. “No need to go that far mate.”

“No. No. You know what I mean.” Strike shook his head and chuckled. “She’s strong but she’s kind and generous. Restful, Eric. She relaxes me at the same time she challenges me.” He looked baffled.

“Yeah. I get that.” Wardle paused and laid a finger against his chin. “I married the first woman who ever did that for me.”

Strike’s eyes snapped to his. Shocked.

“Don’t look so shocked. Ekwenski and I have been waiting for this to happen since the Ripper case.” Wardle let out a shout of laughter that he muffled as he heard the door open.

Both men watched as a tall light skinned and deadlocked man walked into the room, accompanied by a guard. He nodded to Wardle, who noticed that his almost black eyes widened slightly as he took in the sheer bulk and size of Strike. He walked to the table and sat, placing his handcuffed hands on the table, as though he’d been instructed to do so.

Wardle caught Strike’s eye and nodded toward the table. Then he glanced at the guard who moved to take up his station at the door, nodded and he pulled out his own chair and sat down.

“You’re Andre Perry?” he asked the dreadlocked and silent man.

“Yah. Dat’s me.” Perry’s voice was a gentle lilting meld of Caribbean flavored with London.

“We were hoping you could give us some information on your former cell mate, Oliver Trewin.”

“Ah’ll do wat Ah can. Watchoo need ta know?

“Well first if you could tell us a little about Mr. Trewin’s personality. What was he like?” It seemed best to get a picture of Trewin’s day to day life.

“Well, ‘e was a nice enuff bloke. ‘E was quiet. Liked to read.”

“What kind of stuff did he like to read?” Cormoran interjected, notebook at the ready, pencil poised to take notes in his spiky handwriting that Wardle couldn’t decipher.

“Mostly de Bible. But sometimes ‘e liked what ‘e called ‘The classics’. Dickens and summat.” Perry shook his head. “Always tried to get me interested in his Bible studies but God left me a long time ago.” Perry’s eyes left their faces and glanced down at the table. “Ollie said dat weren’t troo. But Ah couln’t believe dat.”

“Mr. Perry?” Wardle sat forward. “Did he ever talk about why he was in prison?”

“Sure. We all do. ‘E said ‘e was in for raping a girl in college.” Perry glanced between them, as if waiting for an affirmation.

Wardle nodded and glanced at Strike before asking, “Did he ever tell you about it? About what happened?”

“‘E said ‘e’d been messed up on drugs dat night and dat ‘e’d attacked a ginger ‘aired girl in a stairwell. ‘E was always real ‘shamed of ‘imself. Said ‘e wished, more den anyfing dat ‘e could take dat night back.”

“Did he?” Wardle was clearly intrigued.

“Yah. Ah use ta tell ‘im ta jus’ send de letter to ‘er and be done wif it.” Perry drew a line on the table with his finger to emphasize his words.

Wardle was silent for a few beats, absorbing what had just been said. Then, “Trewin wrote his victim a letter?”

“’E did. ‘E felt so guilty about what ‘e done to ‘er that ‘e could ‘ardly function sometimes. ‘E ‘ad some terapy before Ah became his mate and ‘e said that the therapist ‘ad told ‘im to write ‘er a letter. Ah don’ tink de therapist meant for ‘im to send it, but Ah tol ‘im ‘e should.” Perry’s brows lowered and he shook his head. “’E wouldn’t tho. It were a proper letter too. ‘E ‘pologized and din’t make no ‘xcuses.” Perry was animated now. Hands gesticulating with his words. Anxious to convey that in his mind, Oliver Trewin had been repentant of his crimes.

“’E ‘pologized for attacking ‘er and said dat ‘e knew it must ‘ave caused ‘er so many problems. ‘E tol ‘er ‘e wished ‘e could go back to dat night and not take de drugs dat changed ‘im so ‘e did dat to ‘er. Dat ‘e could take ev’ryting back.” Perry was earnest now, as though pleading Trewin’s case.

“’E said, ‘e knew she ‘ad to be traumatized and dat ‘e understood dat was his fault and dat ‘e’d live wit dat guilt for de rest o’ ‘is days.” Perry shook his head sadly. “E was a good guy Ollie was. A nice bloke. ‘E wouldn’t have hurt her if ‘e ‘adn’t been on de drugs. But ‘e couln’t take dat back and dat ‘urt ‘im.”

“Mr. Perry, do you know if Mr. Trewin ever actually sent the letter?” Cormoran asked quietly.

“Ah don’t fink so. Ah kept tellin’ ‘im ‘e should, but ‘e always shook his ‘ead and said ‘e din’t want to add to de tings ‘e’d already done to ‘er.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us about him? Did he ever talk about what he planned to do after his release?” Wardle queried.

“Not really. Not much. De only ting Ah know for sure dat he planned to do was to go see a doctor.” Perry shrugged.

“Was he ill?” Wardle’s instincts perked up at this. This was important.

“No sir. ‘E said ‘e didn’t want to be able to ‘urt anyone again, and ‘e din’t tink ‘e deserved to ‘ave sex ever again after what he done to dat girl, so ‘e planned to ‘ave a doctor fix ‘im.”

Cormoran leaned forward, “You mean he meant to undergo chemical castration?”

Perry nodded. “Dats wha ‘e said.”


	22. Chapter 22

_As you watch me wander, curse the powers that be_  
_Cause_ _all_ _I_ _want_ _is_ _here_ _and_ _now_ _but_ _its_ _already_ _been_ _and_ _gone_  
_Our_ _intentions_ _always_ _last_ _that_ _bit_ _too_ _long_

**Full Moon – The Black Ghosts**

Rain pattered, dripping from the awning outside the pub as Robin ducked through the door. She swiftly folded her bright blue umbrella and set it in the provided umbrella stand next to the door. As she scanned the slightly crowded room for Matthew’s familiar features she took a deep breath, counting in her head as she’d practiced so many times with her therapist.

_In, two, three, four, five, six, seven_

_Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven_

During her therapy session yesterday, she’d gone over the events of the past few days and in talking it through with Eleanor, her therapist, she’d realized that Cormoran had already helped her reach the understanding she needed. And just realizing that made her feel steadier than she’d felt all week.

Eleanor hadn’t been surprised either. She’d been Robin’s therapist since right after the Chiswell case. Robin had been determined o make good on her promise to Cormoran about seeing to her mental health, and she considered herself fortunate to have found Eleanor on the first try. From their first session together, Robin had felt at ease with Eleanor in a way she’d never felt with anyone else. Not even Cormoran. She truly didn’t feel judged or that she was going to “get in trouble” for feeling a certain way when she talked through her issues with Eleanor or Cormoran. Whereas she’d always felt she was risking a telling off when discussing things with her first therapist, or when she tied to talk through an issue with Matthew.

Over the last six months her therapist had seen her through the divorce, the aftermath of being held at gunpoint by Raff Chiswell, the PTSD lingering from the brush with The Shacklewell Ripper, and the change in her living situation and resultant changes in her relationship with Cormoran. Eleanor had been amused to hear that the man Robin admired so much had been harboring feelings for his partner. Not surprised. Amused.

“It was obvious to me that he must have feelings for you. I’m just glad you finally got around to getting them out of him,” she’d chuckled when Robin had finished telling her about the shift in their relationship.

Robin now found it soothing to be able to dump everything out of her brain and then reexamine it without constraints. More than once she’d come to a realization or a breakthrough on a case she’d been working and had to pause her session to text or call Cormoran to share it. Eleanor had never minded. That alone made therapy worth it.

Yesterday though, Eleanor had cautioned Robin to be careful during this lunch meeting with Matthew. She gave no warnings, just a reminder to keep the Robin she was now in the forefront, even if it made Matthew uncomfortable.

“You are a strong woman. You’ve been learning this over the last year. Don’t back slide. I know he was important to you and he played a vital role in helping you recover after your attack but remember who you were at the end of the relationship with him and look at who you are now. Be careful.”

Robin intended to remember.

She finally spotted Matthew in a dimly lit corner booth at the back of the pub. He hadn’t seen her yet and so she watched him surreptitiously as she made her way to the bar to order a club soda. He was as impeccably groomed as ever, but there were dark circles under his eyes and his face was strained.

He spotted her just as she turned toward him with her drink in hand. He raised a hand in a half wave and then rose from his seat to kiss her cheek and hold her chair for her.

“Doing alright?” he asked.

“A little soggy if I’m honest,” she chuckled. “But otherwise fine. You?”

“I’m coping. The police still haven’t given me any information, but I haven’t been charged yet. My lawyer says we should know something soon.” He shrugged and then, gesturing to the menu lying to the side of his glass, “Are you hungry?”

“No. Actually I’m not. I had a rather large breakfast with…” She stopped.

“With Cormoran.” His eyes narrowed a fraction, but he said nothing as she nodded.

“Business is going well then?”

She straightened in her seat as she answered him. “It is. We got a lot of publicity from the last case and we’re really quite busy at the moment. We’ve worked hard for it. It’s a nice change.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it?” He smiled at her as he lifted the menu to study it. “I think I’m going to order a sandwich, if you don’t mind.” He stood as she responded.

“No. Of course I don’t.”

“Great. Be right back.” He stopped beside her chair with an inquiring glance. “Sure you don’t want anything?”

“Quite sure. But thank you.”

He nodded and walked toward the bar. Robin let out the breath she’d been holding. She could feel the guilt trying to take hold. “ _You just have to remember that you owe him nothing now Robin. Nothing,”_ she furiously reminded herself. “ _Your life now is none of his business. You don’t have to hide anything, and you don’t have to share anything.”_

Matthew slipped back into the booth with a fresh pint, and folded his hands on the table. “So, you’re probably wondering why I asked you here. And I’m sorry to bother you, but I felt terrible about what’s happened, and I didn’t feel like I was able to properly say that while I was being interrogated by the police.”

His voice hardened as he finished, making his annoyance with Wardle and Vanessa clear.

“You don’t really owe me any explanation.” Robin tried to brush it off.

“No. I do. I shouldn’t have demanded to talk to you. I shouldn’t have drug you into this. But I,” He paused, took a sip of his new pint, “I was scared. I didn’t really know what else to do.”

“I can understand that. I can.” Robin caught herself as she reached to lay her hand on his, as she would have done in the past, to give comfort. She pulled her hand back but left it on the table. “But I’m not sure why you asked for me. I have nothing to do with the police.”

“I think because of who _he_ was and the fact that I know you occasionally work with The Met…I just assumed you’d be able to make everything better. I’ve been so used to relying on you Robs. And a part of me wanted to make sure you knew he was gone. That he wasn’t a threat to you any longer.”

He smiled what she now recognized as his ‘charming’ smile. It was the smile he used on women when he wanted his way. It hardly failed him. But it wasn’t going to work on her now.

“Honestly, Matt, you’d have been better off with Cormoran. He knows more about this sort of thing than I do. I’m still learning.” She didn’t really feel that way, but she was interested to see how Matthew would respond to that. She was beginning to realize exactly why he’d asked her here. It was just a matter of getting to it.

“I’d never ask for his help.” Matthew almost spat. “And I bloody well doubt he’d have given it if I had.”

“You’d be wrong.” She sat back in her chair, removing her hands from the table, putting as much distance between them as she could. “He’d have helped you.” Matthew snorted derisively.

“He would have. Even if it was only for my sake.”

“So that’s how it is then? You two really are together now?” Matthew sneered at her, clearly unable to believe that she could stoop so low.

“That’s none of your business Matthew.”

“Only, Sarah’s friend Davina saw you two snugged up together at some pub in Euston. Rude cow couldn’t wait to mention it to Sarah, knowing that Sarah would tell me.”

“It’s none. Of. Your. Business.” Robin started to gather her coat and bag. “And now I know why you really asked me here.”

“No. Robs. Wait...” Matthew stammered, stumbling to his feet as she rose.

“I won’t.” She snapped. “You’re the one who cheated on me Matthew. You belittled me over and over. You hated that I was happy in my chosen career.”

“That’s not…” He tried to interject but she was having none of it.

“You never once thought to be proud of me, to cheer me on, the way you demanded I do for you. You cared more about appearances than about my happiness.” She continued, working to control her volume, so as not to make a scene.

“Bullshit…This is bullshit.” Matthew’s hands were gathered into fists now.

“You were so determined to see Cormoran as competition and yet, even after I found out about you and Sarah the first time, you continued to lie to me and say there was nothing going on, and then you had the nerve to get upset when I could tell there was.”

“Well obviously, since you’re with him now, I was right to be concerned. How long did it take Robin? How long before you crawled into his bed?” Matthews voice was filled with rage and pitched just loud enough for the tables near them to hear.

“For the _last_ time. It is _NONE_ of your business. My entire relationship with Cormoran is none of your business.” She advanced on him menacingly, eyes blazing. “For that matter, my entire _LIFE_ now is none of your business.” He put his hands in his pockets, but she could still see the balls of his fists. Not for the first time she thought that Matthew might actually be capable of doing violence against her. But she was fairly certain he’d refrain. At least in public.

“Go home Matthew. Go home to Sarah. Leave me alone. Don’t come near me again.” She leaned forward, “I mean it. I’m finished with your arrogant, entitled arse.”

With that she turned and with a measured stride, walked away, swinging on her coat as she did so. She grabbed her bright blue umbrella out of the stand, pushed through the door, popped the umbrella open and with a newfound lightness to her step, she headed toward the nearest Tube station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve gone ahead and created a Spotify playlist for this fic. You can find it on Spotify as Say Goodbye To Soho. I tried to put a link to it here but for some reason AO3 wouldn't allow it.


	23. Chapter 23

_You've been on my mind_  
_I grow fonder every day_  
_Lose myself in time_  
_Just thinking of your face_

**One and Only ~ Adele**

Robin let out a dejected sigh as she exited the Tube station at Kilburn Station. She was set to tail Sticky Hands this afternoon. Sticky Hands was a teenage girl whose mother believed she was shoplifting. After already having been arrested once before, Sticky’s mum was worried that her daughter was back at it after finding high priced makeup in her bedroom. She’d come to Cormoran and Robin hoping they could track her daughter and prove it either way.

It was an easy assignment, for which Robin was grateful. Her mind was still spinning from the confrontation with Matthew and she was trying to figure out how to approach Wardle and Vanessa with the fears she was having concerning Trewin’s death. Something wasn’t right with Matthew.

But first, she wanted to talk to Cormoran.

She hadn’t told her partner about her planned meeting with Matthew. She knew she shouldn’t have kept it from him, but she’d been afraid that Cormoran would have wanted to accompany her and Matthew wouldn’t have stood for that. Especially since he’d apparently been tipped off that she and Cormoran were now a couple.

She had no idea how he’d found that out, but it didn’t really matter. Her divorce was final. Matthew had no power over her any longer.

On that thought she stopped outside St Augustine’s Church of England High School, propped herself on a wall and pulled her mobile out of her handbag. As she waited for classes to let out she called Cormoran with the intention of filling him in.

He answered on the third ring.

“What’s up?”

“Are you busy?” she asked.

“Just finished with Wardle. Actually, I need to talk to you if you’re free enough.”

“I’m just outside St. Augustine’s, waiting to tail Sticky Hands.” She hoped he’d be willing to chat now. She didn’t like keeping things from him. “Do you mind if I go first?”

“Sure. Mine can wait until tonight. Go ahead.”

Her stomach was churning as she began, “Please don’t get upset, but I met with Matthew today for lunch.”

“OK.” A pause. “Why?” His voice was calm. She started to regret doing this over the phone. It would be much easier if she could see his face as she explained.

“He said he had some things he wanted to discuss that he couldn’t talk about at the station.” She paused to collect her thoughts. Cormoran stayed silent, waiting.

“I met him at The Spaniards Inn in Hampstead today at 1:30. He works near there.” She stopped, waited for a response.

“Did he have anything worth hearing?”

“That’s the odd thing. He didn’t want to discuss Trewin at all.”

“Really?” She noted that he didn’t seem all that surprised.

“No. He apologized for dragging me into the situation. For refusing to talk to Wardle and Vanessa without me there.” She paused to wait for his response, hoping it would give her insight into his thoughts.

“What was his reason?” Cormoran asked. “I’m assuming he had one.”

She sighed as she replied, “He said that he thought that because we occasionally work with The Met that I might have some ability to help in the situation. He also said that he’d wanted to be sure that I knew that Trewin wasn’t a threat to me any longer.”

She heard the bell for the school start to ring and fixed her eyes on the exit that they’d been told Sticky Hands used. She continued, “But then he started trying to get me to admit that you and I are a couple.”

“And did you?” She really wished she could see his face. His voice was so bland through the mobile. It was hard to tell if he was upset.

“I told him it was none of his business.”

“I see.”

She sighed, frustrated, “Well it isn’t Cormoran. It isn’t.”

“I know. I just…”

She interrupted him. “I don’t want him involved in _us_. I don’t want him anywhere near it. He’ll taint it.” She could hear the shrillness in her voice and tried to rein herself in. “What you and I have…” She stopped, realizing they’d never defined it.

He’d never referred to her with any title other than his partner. She’d done the same.

Suddenly she found herself questioning their entire relationship. And she silently damned Matthew for being the cause of that. He’d done exactly what she’d wanted to avoid him doing. He’d tainted this…whatever it was.

“Robin?” His voice was soft now. With a slight tone of reassurance.

“I’m here.” Her voice was thick, throat tight with tears gathering. She took a deep breath.

“What we have, Robin…It’s not really definable.” She heard him whoosh out a breath. “You are the single most important person in my life. Do you understand that?”

She furiously wiped the tears that had started from her eyes as she replied with a shaky laugh, “I do now.”

“I should hope so.” He chuckled. “No one matters more to me than you. I’m sorry if I’ve not made that clear.” He paused, and she jumped in before he could continue.

“You have. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so insecure. It’s just…” She took a deep breath. “Well, you don’t refer to me as anything but your partner.”

“Because that’s what you are.” He sounded incredulous. “You are my partner. In the agency, of course. But you’ve been my partner in life for the last two years. At least as far as I’m concerned.”

“Really?” She hated that she sounded like a teenager, but she’d not realized it had been that long for him.

“Yes really! From the moment you moved in with Ilsa and Nick I knew we’d eventually get to this point.”

She laughed a watery laugh and sniffled as she teased, “Well it took you long enough.”

“I know,” he responded, voice filled with remorse. “I just didn’t want to rush you. And then it seemed important that your divorce was finalized. And then, well, things just happened.” He stopped, and she heard a slight rustle, as though he was rubbing the back of his neck. “I told you I love you. I’ve not said that to anyone since Charlotte and before her I’ve only ever said it to Ilsa and Nick, Lucy, Aunt Joan and Uncle Ted, and my mother. I don’t say those words lightly,” he finished softly.

He'd told her he loved her. She hadn’t reciprocated, but she did. She knew she loved Cormoran, desperately. The love she had for him was bigger, sweeter, and scarier, than anything she’d ever felt for Matthew.

Her love for Matthew was a mere shadow compared to the depth of her love for Cormoran.

She needed to be with him now. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the flat. Why?”

Sticky Hands could wait. This was more important.

“I need to be with you right now. I just need to see you. Matthew messed with my head and I just…”

“Want me to come meet you? We can tail Sticky and then go to dinner.” She heard his keys jingle and envisioned him grabbing them from the table near the front door on his way out of the flat.

“It sounds like you’re already on your way.”

“Stay there. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”


	24. Chapter 24

_Pack your things_  
Leave somehow  
Blackbird’s song  
Is over now  
**Blackbird’s Song – Lee DeWyze**

Cormoran spotted the shining gold of Robin’s hair as soon as he turned the corner onto Oxford Street. She was perched on a wall, seemingly engrossed in something on her phone but he was certain she was either taking pictures of Sticky Hands or preparing to do so.

He took a final drag on the cigarette he’d lit and ground it under his heel as he came to a stop next to her. She didn’t speak, but the corners of her mouth turned up as she snapped a rapid succession of a teenaged girl with green hair standing with a clutch of other teens.

She lowered the phone and tilted her face up toward his. “Hi!”

“Hi.” He nodded his head toward the groups of teens across the street. “Which one is Sticky?”

“Oh, she apparently dyed her hair green at the weekend. Her mum didn’t give me that bit of information.” She shrugged, “Can’t see why knowing that would have been helpful.”

He snorted a laugh at her sarcasm as he offered a hand to help her down from the wall. She looped her shoulder bag over her shoulder before sliding her hand down his arm to twine her fingers with his, as they started walking in a meandering fashion, still tailing Sticky, who had started moving down the street herself, still surrounded by her pack of friends.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Much. Now that you’re here.” She smiled up at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that he wanted to meet. I know I should have.”

“Robin…”

“No, let me finish. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. It was because I figured you’d have wanted to go with me and I knew that Matthew would have turned it into a pissing match.”

“He’d have tried.” Cormoran acceded. “But it takes two to have a pissing match and I’m not interested.”

She squeezed his hand. “It’s over now and I don’t have any intention of speaking to him again. I made it clear that my life now is absolutely none of his business and that I never want to speak to him again. He wasn’t happy, but I’m past caring.”

As they came to a crosswalk, where they’d have to wait for the light he released her hand and slung his arm over her shoulder, puling her against his side and dropping his head to kiss the top of hers. “I can definitely appreciate that sentiment.” He paused, wondering how to broach the subject he needed to raise next.

He was quite sure that after what he and Wardle had learned at HMP Thameside, Matthew wasn’t even close to being out of their lives. In fact, he was quite certain that Matthew was a threat to everything they both held dear.

They walked in silence for a few moments, still following Sticky Hands, Robin still snapping pictures of the girl as they followed her route.

Finally, Cormoran gathered himself, took a deep breath and said, “I had a meeting with Wardle today.”

“Yeah? About Matthew?” He kept his eyes forward but could see that her face had turned toward him at his words.

“No. About Oliver Trewin.” Once again stopped for a crosswalk he looked at her, tucking a swath of bronze hair that was blown against her cheek, behind her ear as he continued, “Neither of us really felt confident in Matthew’s story. Wardle, especially, was unconvinced. He set up a meeting with the warden of the prison Trewin had been in and we went to see him today.”

He proceeded to tell her the results of their meeting. Laying out the story they’d heard from Daniels, Boykins and especially Perry.

“If Perry is telling the truth, and Wardle and I both felt very strongly that he was, then Trewin had no intention of harming you. If he really came looking for you it was most likely for the purpose of apologizing.” He glanced down at her, gauging her reaction to this information. She’d been silent throughout his recitation of the events.

“So…” She narrowed her eyes as though trying to make sense of something. “Perry believes he was planning to undergo chemical castration?”

“Yes.” Cormoran nodded. “Though Wardle is following up on that with his family. He’s hoping someone close to him will be able to confirm that story.”

Robin stopped and raised her phone again, snapping pictures of Sticky Hands as she walked, with three friends, into the Sainsbury’s across the street. “Sorry. I need to…” She gestured toward the store.

“Of course.” He nodded and motioned for her to go ahead. “I’ll be right here.”

He watched her cross the street and enter the shop as he leaned against a light post, digging out his pack of cigarettes and lighting up.

She hadn’t given him any indication of her feelings and by now, he knew, it must be obvious that Matthew’s story wasn’t holding weight. He knew Robin well enough to know that some part of her had already reached that conclusion before they’d even gotten home from the station the other night.

Truthfully, he was slightly surprised she hadn’t brought it up to him already.

He glanced up as Sticky Hands and her entourage exited the shop. He dropped his fag and started across the street to meet Robin as she exited.

She dropped her phone into her bag and took his hand again as they set off in the opposite direction from Sticky Hands.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Nope.” There was a shrug in her voice. “That’s three days now that I’ve tailed her and all three days they’ve stopped in different shops and not once has she nicked anything. But we’ll give it some more time.”

They continued at a slightly faster pace than before. He could sense that she was still mulling something over in her head and he waited, a tad impatiently, for her to share.

Finally, as they reached the Embankment Station she spoke.

“There were times, at the end of my marriage, when I sensed an air of violence from Matthew.”

Cormoran turned to her sharply, shocked.

She smiled ruefully. “The night I left him, do you remember, you called me to tell me you’d just seen Della Winn?”

He nodded. Waited.

“Remember the call was ended?”

“I do.”

“Matthew had snatched my phone out of my hand.”

“I’d assumed…” Cormoran started, just as she was saying, “I forced him to give it back and I called you back and finished the discussion.”

“Robin, I wish you’d have told me then. I’d have…”

“I know.” She smiled at him. Leaned her body against his briefly. “But after we finished the call, he was going on about how we were trying to save our marriage and there I was calling you and I just…” She trailed off, lost in a memory. He ached to pull her close again.

He really just ached for her. He knew this wasn’t easy to relive but it seemed she needed to get it out.

“I told him that I wasn’t trying to save it, that I’d been about to leave him during our honeymoon, but that I’d stayed when he’d gotten ill.” She’d never told Cormoran this. They'd never discussed the night she'd ended her marriage. Cormoran was gobsmacked...She’d been ready to leave him…on their honeymoon.

“But…You…”

“I know. I’d realized you see, on that trip, that I was pretty sure that I was falling in love with you.” Her eyes filled as she looked up at him. “I’d been out for a walk on the beach and I’d left my phone in our room, because Matt was obviously waiting for me to ‘sneak’ off with it to call you. But suddenly I just wanted to hear your voice, I missed you, you see.” She swiped at a tear that had overflown her eye.

“I went to the bar and I called the office,” she gave a watery snuffled laugh, “It was the only number I could remember off the top of my head, and I knew it would be forwarded to your mobile. But…”

“Oh God…” he moaned as he realized that the phone call that Coco had intercepted that night, when he’d been drunk out of his mind, doing anything to try to put images of Robin wrapped around that twat of a husband of hers out of his mind, had in fact, been the one person he’d wanted to talk to more than anyone else. “Oh God, Robin.” He dropped his head into his hands in shame. “I…I couldn’t go back to the office because of the press…and I couldn’t go to Ilsa and Nick’s because I didn’t want to talk about you…and all I wanted, all I wanted was you…Fuck…I...” 

“I know. It’s OK," she soothed. "I know. I get it.” She ran her hand over his head, smoothing the curls and coaxing him to look back at her.

“So anyway, the night I left him I told him I’d planned to leave him on the honeymoon and that I didn’t love him anymore. That we actually shouldn’t have gone on the honeymoon, that I should have left him the minute I’d realized he’d deleted your calls.”

He gave in to the impulse and dragged her against him, needing to hold her. She stretched up on her toes, absentmindedly kissing his cheek as she continued. “He called me a bitch.”

“Fucker. He’s a little bitch,” he murmured pettishly as he rubbed her wide circles on her back, hoping it was soothing her the way she soothed him. 

“I won’t argue there. But, he called me a bitch and then tried to make me feel like nothing by telling me that everyone thought I was a flake because I’d dropped out of uni and was leaving our marriage and I’d been sacked from the agency…”

He couldn’t stop his hands from balling into fists at the thought of her ex husband denigrating her that way. A growl of rage emanated from him at the thought of anyone trying to make Robin anything less than what she was. She smiled as she patted his chest and continued, “He was blocking the way to the door and at that point I really just wanted to leave. But there was something in his eyes. It scared me.” She shook her head a little, remembering. “I heard the cab pull up out front and he tried to force me to stay but I threatened him. I told him I’d fought off bigger and meaner men than him…” She giggled and said, “I think I even said something like, ‘You haven’t even got a knife.’”

Cormoran couldn’t help a guffaw at her temerity. He stooped down and looked her full in the face, “My money is always on you.”

She smiled beautifully at him and went on, “I told him he’d have to hurt me to keep me there, but I reminded him that his bosses wouldn’t like hearing about that and he let me go. But…”

“You couldn’t have known Robin. How could you have known?”

“I know. But even now…Cormoran…Could he really have…?” She couldn’t finish.

He sighed and laid his cheek against the top of her head, holding her close and wishing he didn’t have to say, “I think he must have Robin.”

She nodded and leaned away from him, pulling her bag around and pulling her phone out. “Well then…we’re going to need Wardle.”


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 _I can't seem to face up to the facts_  
I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax  
I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire  
Don't touch me I'm a real live wire  
**Psycho Killer – Talking Heads**

“You realize Gooner is going to flatten him like a steamroller if he tries anything.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re OK…”

Robin cut Wardle off with a glare. “I. Don’t. Care.”

Wardle emitted a low whistle at her vehemence. “Well OK then.”

He leaned forward toward the bank of small monitors in front of him, Robin and Vanessa and pressed a button on the headset affixed to his ears. “Ready when you are Gooner,” he muttered into the mic in front of his mouth, which was transmitting to the tiny speaker in Cormoran’s ear. Glancing over at the steely eyed woman next to him. “Your girl isn’t having second thoughts.”

“Course not,” came the crackly reply. Even through static Robin could hear the pride in her partners voice.

She knew what was about to go down. She knew the plan. They’d discussed it at length last night, over pizza and beer in the living room of the their flat after Robin had called Wardle right there in the Embankment station and asked him to tag Vanessa and meet her and Cormoran at home.

Matthew was going down.

Cormoran was, even now, walking to Matthew’s flat, armed with nothing more than a tiny camera affixed to the top of a pen that was stuck through the spiral of a notebook he was carrying. The view they currently had was of the ground as Cormoran walked toward the flat, but it was picking up every sound.

She listened, trying to ignore the tightening in her chest, as Cormoran rang the buzzer, before landing a few firm knocks against the door.

She, Wardle and Vanessa were crammed inside a plumber’s van a block away, watching and listening and prepared to swoop in if needed. Technically _she_ wasn’t allowed to sweep in, but she’d be damned if she’d be kept back.

This was personal.

She heard the door to the flat being unlatched and focused her attention back on the video and audio.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Matthew snarled at Cormoran.

“Can I come inside?” Cormoran asked.

“Why?” Matthew’s voice was full of haughty snideness.

“Look…It’s up to you. I’m only here as a favor to Robin. She asked me to come by and talk with you.” The camera zoomed up and Matthew’s chest and chin were visible. Robin assumed Cormoran was holding his hands up as if to say, “Don’t blame me.”

“Robin sent you?” Matthew asked. “Why?”

“If you want to have this talk out here on your doorstep that’s fine with me too, but it really would be better if I came in.” Cormoran tried again.

“Fine. Whatever.”

There was the sound of Cormoran’s boots scraping on the doormat and then, the slam of the door.

He was in.

Cormoran stepped through the door into Matthew’s flat and quickly took stock of his surroundings. He pulled the pen out of the spiral of the notebook and held it in his fist like he was about to start nervously clicking it open and closed as he followed Matthew through to the lounge.

Matthew allowed him to go ahead of him into the lounge and then leaned against the doorjamb, waiting for Cormoran to speak.

Cormoran watched him for a moment without speaking. “Do you mind if I sit?” he asked, indicating a chair close to him.

Matthew sneered at him, “If you must.”

“Cheers. The leg’s been giving me a bit of trouble lately.”

“Whatever.”

Cormoran flipped out his notebook and riffled through the pages. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Matthew gave a ‘go ahead’ gesture and he continued, “Robin asked me to come by and talk to you after you two talked yesterday. She’s worried that you may be facing charges and she asked me to go through it once more with you, just to make sure she didn’t miss anything that might help.” He shook his head, trying to convey that he was slightly annoyed with his partner.

He watched as Matthew’s eyes lit up with predatory interest at the slight suggestion that Cormoran might think Robin wasn’t on top of things. “ _Arsehole,”_ he thought to himself.

“A little unsure of herself, is she?” Matthew asked.

Cormoran shrugged, “Circumstances I guess. She is a little close to this one.”

“Yeah. I guess she is.” Matthew stepped away from the doorjamb and came fully into the room. “What do you need to know?”

Cormoran glanced down at his notes. “Well, first, did Oliver Tigwell make any contact with you before the night he came here?”

“Never.”

“So, he never sent a letter?”

“Not that I received. Why?” Matthew hitched a hip up on the arm of the sofa. Keeping himself in a position of dominance while trying to project an aura of being at ease.

“Apparently Vanessa,” he paused, “You know Vanessa? Right?”

“Yes.” This was said with a hiss of anger. Clearly Vanessa wasn’t his favorite person.

“She asked Robin if she’d gotten a letter. Apparently, they spoke with someone at the prison Tigwell had been in and they were told that Tigwell may have sent a letter to Robin. Robin obviously didn’t get anything.”

“Nothing came here.” Matthew spread his hands wide as he spoke.

“OK.” Cormoran made a tiny note in his notebook.

“You said that he, sorry, Tigwell, chased you up the stairs, shouting for Robin, is that right?”

“Yes. It is. He kept saying, ‘Where is she? Where is the bitch?’”

“And you’re sure he was angry?”

“What the…Of course he was angry, you idiot! He wouldn’t have been chasing me otherwise.”

“Just trying to get the facts absolutely straight.” Cormoran waved a conciliatory hand.

“Look, the arsehole started pounding on my door in the middle of the night bellowing for Robin. I heard him and grabbed my cricket bat and started downstairs. By the time I got there he’d broken the window and gotten inside.”

Cormoran made a note, then asked, “Did you note the time?”

“It was around four I think.” He paused. “Yeah, four. Anyway. I tried to tell him that Robin wasn’t here, and that he needed to leave, but he didn’t want to listen. As he started ransacking the house looking for her I made my way back to the stairs.”

“Why?” Cormoran interjected.

“Why what?”

“Why did you need to get to the stairs?”

Matthew looked at Cormoran like he was an imbecile. “My phone. I needed my phone to call the police.”

“You didn’t bring it with you when you came out of your bedroom?” Cormoran asked.

“No.” Matthew shrugged. “I didn’t think to.”

Cormoran paused, tilted his head slightly and made another note.

“Go ahead.” He waved his hand in Matthew’s direction, still taking notes. He didn’t miss the disgruntled hiss Matthew made.

“I got halfway up the stairs and he was coming at me.”

“And you still had the cricket bat, right?”

“Yes.”

“OK. You’re on the stairs and he’s following you. What happened next?”

“He was coming at me fast and I was trying to get back to our room, my room,” he corrected himself. “But he caught up to me and shoved me into the wall.”

“Did he hit you?”

“No. We both just slammed into the wall. I shoved him away and kept going toward the bedroom and he kept following.” His eyes were bright with excitement, “I grabbed my phone and told him I was calling the police, but he slapped the phone away from me and kept yelling, ‘Where is she?’”

“And you still had the cricket bat?” Cormoran interrupted.

“Sorry, what?” Matthew was nonplussed.

“You still had the cricket bat? When he came into the bedroom?”

“Um, yeah. I think so.” Matthew shrugged. “Anyway, he started swinging at me and I started ducking and dodging. He must have been on something because he was swinging wild.”

“So, none of his swings landed?”

“A few of them may have, but they didn’t really hurt.” Cormoran could hear the arrogant pride in his voice. “But then he grabbed my shirt and pulled me toward him, so I pushed against him to get him off me. Next thing I know he’s crashing through the window.”

“You must have shoved him really hard to push him through the window.”

Matthew smiled, “They say adrenaline makes you as strong as ten men.” He moved his head in a shrug.

“That they do.” Cormoran closed the notebook and laid it on the table next to him. “I think I’m about done here, but listen, can I use your loo before I go?”

“Really?” Matthew looked incredulous.

“Yeah. Had quite a bit of tea before heading over here. That’s one thing I can say for Robin, she makes a mean cuppa tea.” He slapped an apologetic look on his face.

“Fine.” Matthew gestured behind him, “Down the hall and to the left.”

“Cheers.” Cormoran left the notebook laying on the table with the pen on top and, exaggerating his limp, made his way toward the loo.

In the van outside Robin, Wardle and Vanessa watched Matthew stare at the notebook. “Come on…come on,” Wardle was whispering under his breath, willing Matthew to take the bait.

“OH! He’s going for it.” Robin gasped.

“Shhhh!”

They watched as Matthew crossed to the notebook. The camera rolled away as he brushed the pen off the notebook. The camera lens, very helpfully, landed upright so they had a clear view of Matthew thumbing through Cormoran’s notes.

It appeared he didn’t like what he was reading.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. His lips were moving as he read under his breath, “Chemical castration? What the…”

His head snapped around and they heard Cormoran reenter the room. Matthew was still holding the notebook.

“You need to give that back to me.” Cormoran was saying.

“The fuck man…What the fuck?” Matthew was clearly panicking.

“Just give me the notebook and I’ll head back to the office.” Cormoran came closer.

“No man. No way. You think I killed him.” Matthew’s eyes were wheeling all over the place.

Robin felt her lungs squeeze and realized she hadn’t taken a breath since Cormoran had come back into the room. Was this going to work?

“No mate. We know you killed him.”

Robin watched, in horror, as Matthew threw the notebook across the room and snatched up the lamp sitting above the camera pen. “No,” she gasped. “Not the plan. No no no…”

Matthew cocked back the lamp and swung it.

The resulting thunk and the sound of a large body crashing to the floor stopped her heart.


	26. Chapter 26

_Can you feel it_  
Coming in the air tonight  
**In the Air Tonight – Phil Collins**

Cormoran lay on the floor, slightly stunned from the blow to his head, but still aware. He watched through slitted eyes as Matthew’s chest heaved up and down. He still held the lamp he’d used to knock Cormoran to the ground, but he seemed unsure what to do next. His face was a study of the beginnings of panic.

Cormoran deliberately let out a quiet groan, indicating he was “coming to”. Matthew started and collecting himself tossed the lamp aside. There was a thud toward Cormoran’s left, indicating it had landed somewhere in the vicinity of the couch. Matthew took a step closer to Cormoran’s prone form on the floor.

His foot flew and landed just below Cormoran’s ribs. This time the grunt wasn’t for show.

“Son of a bitch. Fucking son of a bitch,” he raged as he continued to kick out at Cormoran.

Cormoran tried to roll away but was unable to gain any purchase while being besieged by the blows being delivered by Matthew’s wingtip clad foot. All he could do was curl on his side and wait.

“Fucking ugly ass son of a bitch. Panting after another man’s wife.” Every other word was punctuated with a kick to Cormoran’s midsection.

“How many times did you make a pass at her? Cop a feel? Huh?” Matthew continued to rage, slandering Robin and him both, as he kicked any part of Cormoran he could reach.

“She was mine! She was _my_ fucking wife. _Mine!!!_ ” His breath was coming in harsh almost sobs. The blows slowing and lessening in strength as Matthew’s energy seemed to dwindle.

Still curled on his side Cormoran closed his eyes and breathed as steadily as he could through his nose. His mind raced through the plans that had been laid out the evening before as he waited for Matthew’s next words.

“Does Robin know?” Matthew demanded.

Cormoran opened his eyes, blinking them as though they were blurred. “Wot?” he asked blearily sounding dazed.

“Does Robin know I killed Trewin?”

Cormoran felt a surging in his chest. Relief flooded him even as he prepared to play out the rest of the scenario that had been planned. He gave a small shake of his head. “No. She doesn’t know.”

“You didn’t tell her?” Matthew scoffed. “You’re fucking her and you didn’t tell her? Bullshit.”

“Not…”Cormoran started, then forced himself to flinch away as Matthew started toward him again.

“Don’t try to tell me you aren’t fucking her. I can tell. I know you’re fucking her. The fucking whore.” Matthew was breathing heavily with anger.

“Not…Lying.” Cormoran gasped. “Didn’t want to…hurt her.”

Matthew crouched down and grabbed hold of the curls tangled on top of Cormoran’s head, dragging his head back, “Oh…Isn’t that sweet,” he simpered. “You didn’t want to hurt her. You’re such a fucking pussy. Tell me something?” He adjusted his grip on Cormoran’s head, tightening his hold, “How long did it take for you to get her in bed after she left me? Did you even wait a week?”

Cormoran fought to keep his eyes from narrowing. He knew that it was impossible to give any answer that would satisfy, so he waited, breathing deeply and fighting to stay calm. He knew Robin, Wardle and Vanessa were listening.

He waited.

He stared into Matthew’s eyes and waited.

Despite wanting to smash his fist into Matthew’s handsome face.

Despite wanting to rip his throat out for daring to speak about Robin the way he had.

But he waited.

“What the fuck does she even see in you?” Matthew spoke again, sounding genuinely baffled. Clearly incapable of comprehending how anyone could choose someone else over him. “You’re a fat, one legged bastard. What the fuck makes you better than me?” His face lowered close enough to Cormoran’s that he could smell the slight tinge of garlic on his breath.

“Not that it’s any of your business, you complete twat, but he’s completely different from you in every single _fucking_ way.” Robin stepped into the room, her voice filled with loathing and defiance. “Want me to list them?”

At the sound of her voice Cormoran snapped into action.

He swiftly brought his head forward, slamming his forehead into the bridge of Matthew’s nose, eliciting a scream. Matthew’s hand reflexively released his hair and Cormoran rolled to his stomach, pushing against the carpeted floor firmly to bring himself to his knees before slamming a huge fist into Matthews midsection.

Matthew crumpled.

Robin’s hand fell to his shoulder. Squeezed.

Eyes still on Matthew writhing on the floor in front of them, clutching his streaming nose and groaning, he nodded for her benefit. Reassuring her that he was fine but he raised his hand to grasp the hand still resting on his shoulder. She grasped it tightly and nodded, bracing herself to allow him to use her grip and the sofa to boost himself back to his feet. 

“The police will be here in a moment,” she said glancing up at him, eyes roving over his face, looking for any damage, before turning to Matthew with a business like air. “You’re going to be arrested. For murder. And there isn’t anything you can do to get out of it.” She paused and took a deep breath, shaking her head, face crumpling into confusion.

“What were you thinking Matt? I don’t know what you were thinking. That killing him would somehow win me back?” Her tone was incredulous. “Here’s the thing Matthew…” She paused until he looked at her.

“I don’t love you. And you aren’t entitled to me. You aren’t entitled to my love. There’s literally _nothing_ you could do to ‘win’ me back, because I’m not a rugby game. I’m a living, breathing, feeling person.” She shook her head. “I think you forgot that after I left uni. You forgot that I used to have goals and dreams and plans. And I went along with it because I was scared and you made me feel safe at first.”

Cormoran felt her hand tighten on the hand she hadn’t dropped once he’d regained his feet. He squeezed back, stroking his thumb along hers in silent reassurance, and waited for her to finish.

“I left you because you lied to me and cheated on me. But I should have left you the minute you started trying to make me smaller than I am. The minute you started treating me like a trophy instead of a partner. That’s my fault,” she said quietly, voice full of sorrow, before shaking herself and tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s one hundred percent my fault. But this? This is yours and you have to pay for it now, Matthew. You murdered a man. For nothing.” she finished as Wardle and Vanessa entered the room, with four other officers streaming in behind them.

Cormoran watched her, his hand still clutched in hers, as she watched as Vanessa pulled Matthew to his feet and settled a pair of handcuffs over his thin, elegant wrists as Wardle read him his rights.

When they started him toward the door Matthew’s eyes turned from Robin to level a laser beam of hatred at Cormoran. Cormoran couldn’t stop himself from smirking a little at the sight of the once immaculate Matthew covered in blood, eyes starting to blacken. It was a sight he’d longed to see for close to five years.

As Matthew walked past them he lowered his gaze to their still joined hands and then looked up at Robin, eyes full of contempt and rage.

She simply smiled at him and said, “Goodbye Matthew.” Before turning back to Cormoran and reaching a hand up to his head to assess the damage from the lamp, finding a large bump beginning to bloom just inside his hairline, then running her hands along his sides to feel for broken ribs.

“I’ve had worse,” he tried to reassure her, thought he knew it was pointless.

“You probably have. But I’ll feel better once you’ve been looked at by the medics.”

He grinned down at her, knowing that he could argue with her until he was blue in the face, but she wouldn’t budge. He was tempted to try, just for the fun of it, but chose instead to lean down until his forehead touched hers. “By all means.”


End file.
